


Random Acts

by sgamadison



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:36:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sgamadison/pseuds/sgamadison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's called a random act of kindness," she said.  "You should try it sometime."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Random Acts

“Christmas,” Rodney said tartly, “is a piss-poor excuse for a shoddy experimental design and a rushed analysis of the data. It’s not even really Christmas—it’s just the day we’ve arbitrarily decided to celebrate it. The next person who says, ‘Oh, but it’s Christmas, Dr. McKay’ will be spending the next month working on the nitrogen scrubbers and monitoring methane levels in the sewage treatment tanks. Do I make myself clear?”

He folded his arms and waited.

In his experience, there were three kinds of reactions to the dressing down he’d just given. There was meek acquiescence. He was betting Hastings would fall into that category. There was seething, but silent resentment. That usually came from the person who knew damn well he was right, but couldn’t bring themselves to admit it and hated him for it. And then there were the ones who argued.

Dr. Cox was going to argue. Rodney knew because her fair coloring betrayed her underlying anger when the skin on her neck developed red blotches. Rebecca Cox was tall and athletic, with strawberry blonde hair pulled back in a youthful ponytail. In another lifetime, Rodney would have wanted to get to know her better. Maybe even ask her out.

Not anymore.

“I resent the implication that the work was less than satisfactory. I used the same calculations that you used when you were analyzing—”

Rodney cut her off with a snap of his fingers. “That was your first mistake—you are not me. Your second mistake? The two situations are completely different—and if you’d read my entire paper instead of just skimming the abstract, you would know why your use of those calculations was entirely inappropriate.” He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose briefly. _Maintain control. Maintain control._ When he spoke again, it was with clipped precision. “Of the last two people to use the ‘but you did it’ argument on me, one died of an exploding internal tumor. Dr. Carson Beckett died saving the life of the other. So if I tell you that you’re wrong and you need to start all over again from the beginning, I don’t want to hear any whining, complaining, or excuses. I expect you to just do it.”

Dr. Cox shut her mouth tightly, biting back words she knew she shouldn’t say. Dr. Hastings looked a little pale, and swallowed hard.

“Any questions?” Rodney prompted, standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest again.

Hastings and Cox looked at him mutely, one with mortified distress and the other with flaming indignation. Rodney could live with that. Better yet, so could they.

“Fine,” Rodney said. “Then go.” He made shooing motions with his hands.

Dr. Hastings turned and hurried off down the hall, glancing back once to see if Dr. Cox was coming too. She followed him stiffly, her back rigid with displeasure.

A soft laugh made Rodney whirl to see who had come up from behind him. His hand reached reflexively for the sidearm he wasn’t carrying.

“Katie!” Caught off guard by her unexpected presence, he wondered if she’d noticed the way he’d reached for an imaginary gun. She probably thought he was being a hyper-reactive idiot. _More like you’ve been spending too much time with John and Ronon again…_ “Um, what are you doing here? I mean, not that it isn’t lovely to see you or anything, but I thought you’d gone back to Earth. I mean, I didn’t think you were in the city. Damn it, you know what I mean!”

The sunlight coming in through the window was kind to her. It lit her dark auburn hair from within, making it more vibrant than he’d remembered it. The light caught her brown, doe-like eyes, and made them seem lighter; they gleamed almost like amber. She was smiling too, which she hadn’t exactly been doing the last time he’d spoken with her. In fact, the last time he saw her, he’d had to duck when she threw a potted plant at him. The clay pot had shattered on the wall behind his shoulder, and it was only then that she’d begun to cry. He’d left when she’d screamed at him to get out, and he hadn’t spoken to her again before she left Atlantis to return to Earth. His last memory of Katie had been of her down on her hands and knees, tears trailing her cheeks as she apologized to the plant and scooped it up tenderly.

Her smile widened. “Relax, Rodney. I’m only visiting. I need some DNA samples and some cuttings for some comparative botany work I’m doing—we’re looking at the spread of Pegasus native plants by the Ancients through the Milky Way and vice versa.”

“You couldn’t just have had them sent on a _Daedalus_ run?” He winced as he said the words. It wasn’t as though this city wasn’t big enough for the two of them. “I mean, it’s a long way to come back…” He left out the bit about ‘for some plants’ but he suspected she heard that anyway.

To his surprise, Katie laughed. “The items I needed had been prepared and quarantined here, but I wanted to supervise their care on the return trip home. Besides, contrary to popular belief, I do have people here in Atlantis I wanted to see again.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean to sound… I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m being thoughtless and socially inept, as usual, but then, hey, you know that about me. Can I walk you somewhere?” Rodney pointed vaguely over his shoulder down the corridor.

“That would be nice.” Katie beamed at him, and as he turned to go in her direction, she unexpectedly took hold of his arm. Her small hand felt warm through his shirtsleeve, and he was flustered and embarrassed by the contact. Rodney slowed to her pace. It was unusual for him to have to be the one to slow down—usually John was urging him to keep up. Katie seemed to be deliberately taking her time, more of a stroll down Memory Lane than a need to get to a specific destination, which made his nervousness worse. He caught himself drumming the fingers of his left hand against his thigh and forced himself to stop.

“What have you been up to?” He realized as soon as he’d asked that she’d more or less already told him, and if his right arm had been free, he would have palmed his face. Katie, however, didn’t seem bothered by the question.

“The comparative botany study is _huge_.” Katie warmed to her subject, her expression softening and opening up like a flower turning its petals to the sun. “The impact of the Ancients on the dispersal of flora and fauna of the Milky Way has been enormous. We’ve been trying to determine which species originated in Pegasus, but changed through evolutionary pressures, verses which species represent co-linear evolution, verses which species are in fact, native to the Milky Way but were brought here to Pegasus. Oh, Rodney!’ She gave his arm a little squeeze. “I’ve been going on away missions to collect samples. I’ve seen the most amazing things, the most incredible worlds. I understand now why you found going offworld so exciting.”

“You do? Oh, well, um, that’s nice. There aren’t any horses in Pegasus.” The last sentence came out of his mouth unaccountably. He realized that he’d wanted to contribute to the conversation, to show that he was listening, even if it was about bugs and flowers.

“Excuse me?” Katie looked up at him, frowning slightly.

“John says there aren’t any horses in Pegasus. He’s asked. They’d be a logical sort of animal to have on most of the worlds we visit, given the level of technology we’re talking about. At first, he thought it was because they tied a population down to a particular place, which would be bad if you needed to move fast because of the Wraith. They seem to need to eat a lot of grass—the horses that is, not the Wraith. Right. Of course, you know that. Anyway, we’ve been to lots of worlds that have permanent cities and still, no horses for travel, to plow the fields, or pull carts into market. He thinks they’re native to Earth.”

An odd expression came over Katie’s face. “The Colonel may well be right on that one. The fossil record on Hyracotherium on Earth is pretty well documented. Though, at the time of the Ancient Exodus to Pegasus, the original palaeotheres had given rise to the intermediary forms of Equus. The Ancients moved so many things back and forth between galaxies, it’s odd that they would have overlooked horses.” There seemed to be something else there in the look she gave him, but he couldn’t pin it down.

“Uh-huh.” Rodney was losing interest. Latin names had a way of doing that to him. “Well, maybe they didn’t seem practical when they were only the size of a Rottweiler. Not to mention, the Ancients had to think about what they were going to bring with them. They probably had a weight limit on baggage, same as us. They had to make room for all the fir trees.”

Katie laughed, the frowning expression on her face gone. She leaned into his shoulder and walked just a little faster. They saw Chuck coming toward them on his way to the Gateroom, and Rodney gave him a glare that demanded to know what Chuck was looking at. Chuck, always operating on the side of discretion, let his initial smile fade. He stared off somewhere over Rodney’s head as he passed.

“Don’t you think you were a bit hard on Dr. Hastings and Dr. Cox just now?” Katie’s voice was gentle, and something about it grated on Rodney’s nerves. It was weird, but Sheppard could say the same thing and it would feel more like a check, a simple ‘are you sure about that?’ than a remonstration.

“You fuck up here and people die. You know that, Katie.”

She sighed. She never did like it when he used the “F” word. She use to blame it on his spending so much time with the military, which Rodney took to mean John, though John was as far from classic military as one could get and still hold rank.

“I do. I also know there are ways of saying things that don’t piss people off.”

Rodney bridled a bit at that. This was something Jennifer had often taken him to task over as well, though with more force and less tact. He wondered if he didn’t prefer Jennifer’s ‘change or else’ approach over Katie’s wounded sighs.

“I was right. They were wrong. I’m a genius. They’re not. I’d rather be brilliant and right, than well-liked by everyone.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive positions, Rodney.” Katie let go of his arm.

He found that he missed the contact as they continued walking in silence. He wasn’t sure what to make of that because, seriously, in the time that had passed since he’d almost proposed to Katie, he’d come to realize that he’d dodged a major bullet there.

Time seemed to drag until they reached the botany lab, and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do when they got there. Give Katie a hug and say goodbye? Shake hands? Ask her to dinner? See, he hated this. These social dilemmas. Not knowing how he should behave.

She made it easy for him. “Come in for a minute, this won’t take long.” She entered the lab, looking back with a smile to make sure he was coming.

He followed her into the botany area. The rich, loamy smell of dirt, and the odor of fresh, growing things took him back to the early days of their relationship.

“Um, how long are you going to be in the city?” he asked, hoping he sounded nonchalant and not as though he was planning how to avoid her for the next few weeks.

Katie seemed to hear the underlying concern, and yet it didn’t bother her either. Her smile, knowing but still kind, relaxed him a bit. “The _Daedalus_ leaves the day after tomorrow. Please, don’t feel as though you need to take me to dinner or anything, Rodney.”

Now he felt bad. He shuffled in place, not knowing what to do with his hands, so he shoved them in his pockets. That felt unnatural, so he pulled them out hastily and snapped his fingers together a few times while he thought how to respond. Thank god, the lab was empty except for the two of them. “Things ended a bit awkwardly between us. I’d like to think we can still be friends.”

Katie moved over to the large workbench, where several containers sat sealed with quarantine labels. She checked the seals, as well as the climate controls as she spoke. “Of course, Rodney.”

She picked up the data pad lying on the bench and scrolled through several pages. Satisfied, she set it back down. When she looked up at him, he felt suddenly pinned within her sights.

“You know, in some ways, you did me a big favor.”

Rodney was suddenly glad the workbench was between them, and that it was unlikely she’d lob any of the quarantined items at him.

“I did?” He didn’t ask how. She had to be referring to the failed marriage proposal and her subsequent return to Earth.

“Oh yes.” Katie smiled to herself this time, obviously thinking of something—or someone—else. She looked up abruptly, as though remembering where she was. “I was definitely upset with you when I left Atlantis.” She paused here to blush becomingly. “But if I hadn’t broken up with you and decided to return to Earth, I never would have joined the survey team assigned to SG-23, and I never would have met Sven.”

“Sven?” Rodney asked.

Katie’s face took on a dreamy quality. “Yes, Sven. He’s the lead botanist at the SGC, and he picked me personally to join his team based on my work here in Pegasus. I can’t tell you what an honor that was—I really don’t know the equivalent in your field. Maybe if Neal deGrasse asked you to come join his team on Nova—”

“Neal deGrasse Tyson,” Rodney corrected automatically. “And it would be the other way around. He’d be begging to join me here in Atlantis. After he got finished with his wrestling and dance competitions, of course.” Leave it to Neal to waste time proving that he was an athlete as well as a geek.

“Of course.” Katie’s smile was slightly superior somehow, and it burned Rodney up inside. “Any way, I began working closely with Sven, Dr. Sorenson, that is, and one thing led to another. You’re right, you know, about the intensity of gate travel and the risks of working offworld together. It _does_ create strong bonds among teammates.”

“I said that? Oh, of course. Right. Yes, well, that goes without saying.” If you saved someone’s life often enough—and they did the same for you—then they became more than just people you happened to work with. Colleagues became teammates, and Team… well, that was _everything_.

“Yes.” Katie nodded earnestly. “It gave me a whole new appreciation for your relationship with Colonel Sheppard.”

“Well.” Rodney puffed out his chest a little bit. “The Colonel and I have really come to rely on each other over the years. We each bring something different to the table: my brains and capacity to pull rabbits out of non-existent hats, and his stupid courageousness and reckless sense of duty. Not that he can’t come up with the solution to a problem on his own sometimes. In fact, for a military type—”

Katie cut him off. “That wasn’t exactly what I meant, though I can see the advantages of that kind of working relationship, where each of you balances the other. Where the combination is greater than the sum of the individual parts.”

Was it his imagination, or had Katie placed slightly more emphasis on the word _working_? Rodney caught his breath for a moment. Surely Katie didn’t think—because he and John didn’t have _that_ kind of relationship. Well, okay, there was that time when they’d been the only survivors of a disastrous off world mission—but Rodney was fairly certain that kind of thing wasn’t all that unusual under those particular circumstances—besides, that had been more about adrenaline, shock, and guilty relief. He was sure that didn’t really count. And then there was the time post Siege—but they’d been running ragged on nerves and lack of sleep, trying to prepare for a battle that was certain to end in death for them all—only it hadn’t. And the resulting spontaneous clutch-and-grab in a dark corner when they’d absolutely known for sure they were going to make it—well, that didn’t count either. Neither did that time when the team had gotten sloshed over dinner negotiations on Kelig. Who knew that such quiet, unassuming tava bean farmers could make such smooth but kick-ass moonshine?

Rodney smiled to himself. Elizabeth hadn’t been pleased over that one. He still remembered how the next day, John had refused to take off his sunglasses in the briefing room because his hangover had been so bad. Even Teyla had shown the effects of the night before, which was probably the only reason why Elizabeth bought their explanation that they hadn’t known what they were drinking was alcoholic until too late.

His smile faded and he felt his brow furrow. Elizabeth was gone—dead for all they knew. They’d seen leadership in the city change hands more than once since then. If he added them up, the three times (well, okay, maybe four) of what amounted to merely mutual masturbation over the last five years didn’t count in the relationship scheme of things. It was just… a thing. A thing that guys did. Well, that he and John did. Rarely. That they never talked about either. Because it wasn’t a big deal.

Rodney realized that Katie was staring at him oddly. “Um, sorry. I was thinking about er, uh, quantum chromodynamics.” He cleared his throat.

“Really?” Katie sounded suspiciously as though she were drawling. He couldn’t ever remember Katie drawling with him before. John, yes. John was a drawler. Katie was more of a blink-and-look interested type. “Just what about quantum chromodynamics caught your attention just now?”

Her smile looked downright sly.

Rodney scrabbled for the first thing that came to mind. “Well, if you must know,” he said, intimating that this was way over her head, “I was thinking about the theory of confinement, and how the force between quarks doesn’t diminish when they are separated, essentially rendering them inseparable. So they are forever bound together as hadrons, such as—” He broke off. “I fail to see what is so funny about quantum physics.”

“Oh dear,” Katie said, covering her smile with her hand. “Nothing, nothing, I was just reminded of something, that’s all. You were saying?”

_What was he saying? Oh, right._ “You were telling me about Sven.” Rodney tried not to sneer when he said the name.

This time, Katie’s smile was practically beaming. “Yes. Sven. Well, he and I are engaged.” She looked down at her left hand fondly, and Rodney noticed the huge diamond ring there for the first time.

No wonder she’d taken hold of his arm earlier. She’d wanted him to spot it.

“Ah, well, congratulations. That’s nice. That’s really nice. Really.”

Katie tilted her head to one side and looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before coming around to his side of the table. At the last second, she appeared to notice a potted plant with some dead leaves, and frowning, began to pinch them off.

“It _is_ nice,” she said with satisfaction. She carefully collected the dead lives in the palm of her hand as she picked over the plant. Her attention seemed entirely focused on the ficus, or whatever it was. She continued fussing over the plant, though to Rodney’s eye, it looked as healthy as any of the others there. “I had had a few drinks with Jennifer Keller last night.”

“You did?” Rodney heard the shrill note in his voice and brought it down a notch. “I mean, that’s nice. I didn’t know the two of you were friends.”

“We aren’t really.” Katie brushed the dried leaves into a trash receptacle, dusting her hands briskly before facing him. “We talked about you, actually. I’d heard you’d begun seeing her and that it seemed serious for a while. And then you broke it off. I found the conversation interesting. To be honest, I don’t think she was any better suited for you than I was. For completely different reasons, though.”

“Gee, thanks, I think.”

Katie’s smile was rueful. “It was meant to be kind. Have you…?” She hesitated. She toyed with her diamond ring, twisting it on her finger before she seemed to become aware of what she was doing. She briefly held out her hand in front of her, as though seeing the ring for the first time, and then abruptly let her hand fall to her side. “Has Jennifer shown you the footage of the recorded sessions you made when you were being affected by that brain parasite?” Her gaze locked onto him with uncomfortable intensity.

Rodney shuddered theatrically. “God no, I don’t want to see them. Why would I want to witness the gradual deterioration of one of the finest minds in this generation, namely mine? I had no idea she kept those recordings. I would have thought she would have destroyed them by now. On second thought, she’s probably keeping them as part of my medical record. Hey, wait a minute…” Rodney turned his frown on Katie. “Isn’t that like some violation of some doctor-patient privilege?” Damn it, he was going to have to say something to Jennifer—maybe even demand the footage be destroyed.

“Don’t be mad with her.” Katie briefly held out a placating hand. “We’d had a little too much to drink, and then the subject came up when I asked her how the two of you starting seeing each other.”

Rodney would have sworn that his relationship with Jennifer had begun the day he’d saved her and Sam’s lives when they’d fallen down into that mining facility. True, they didn’t technically go out on a date until that disastrous presentation of Tunney’s. Come to think of it, except for the part where he saved the world and Jennifer’s life (again) to boot, that date hadn’t been going all that well. “Well, no, I haven’t seen it. I wish you hadn’t either.”

“I’m sure that it must be painful to recall,” Katie said gently. “I think you should watch it sometime, however. I think you would find it—illuminating.”

“I don’t remember much about that time,” Rodney said stiffly.

Katie gave one of her long-suffering sighs, the kind that Rodney never did understand even when they were seeing each other. “Right. Well, I guess I’m done here for now. Walk me back to my quarters?”

Katie was staying in the guest section, something that disconcerted Rodney when he’d automatically headed in the direction of her old rooms. She’d had to correct him, and they rode the transport in silence.

“So, Sven, eh?” Rodney said as they walked down the corridor to her room. He couldn’t help it. The words just came out of him of their own volition.

Katie laughed, a light, bubbling sound. “Yes, Sven.” Even her voice was smiling.

“I suppose he’d built like a Viking and is all muscle bound, with long blond locks that he keeps tied back with a piece of rawhide. He probably bench presses cows before breakfast.”

“Oh, Rodney, you aren’t jealous, you know you’re not.” Katie paused in front of her door and turned to him. She looked both amused and slightly concerned. “Please tell me that you’re happy for me.”

“You look good, Katie,” Rodney conceded. “This Sven guy must make you happy.”

Her smile was positively radiant. “He does. And let me tell you, Rodney. When it’s right, it’s _right_ , you know? I was always trying to be someone I was not in order to please you—and I think you were doing the same for Jennifer. That’s why we didn’t work, and why Jennifer and you broke up as well. You need to be with the person that will let you be _you_.”

“As if they have any choice in my case.” Rodney was sour. “I notice you didn’t contradict me about Sven’s appearance. So, what, he looks like Thor?”

Katie smiled wickedly. “Well, lifting heavy crates of plants _does_ tend to give one muscles.”

Rodney knew it. Katie had replaced him with some buff, outdoorsy type. He discounted the fact that they’d broken up over a year ago now, or that he’d been the one unable to go through with the proposal. Even her ring was a blatant reminder of that failure—it dwarfed the minuscule chip of a diamond he’d selected for Katie. He remembered clearly the nervous pride with which he’d shown the ring to John, and John’s less than enthusiastic reaction. Looking at Katie now, he felt like he’d just been dumped.

Katie took pity on him. “However, Sven wears glasses, and the men in his family go bald early. You have more hair than he does, Rodney.”

“Oh really?” Rodney ran a hand through his hair. His hairline had been receding for quite some time now; it really shouldn’t bother him, but here Sheppard was a year older than he was, and he looked at least five years younger. Well, who knows how much time Todd had given him back after that forced feeding when Koyla had kidnapped John. Rodney bet Todd snuck a few years extra back in. There was something between those two. Oh hell, there was something between John and almost everyone, Rodney thought morosely.

“Nearly bald, eh?” Rodney revised his mental image of Sven. Now he looked less like Thor and more like a weedy bookworm, with heavy, black glasses and thick, Coke-bottle lenses, and a bad comb-over.

“Yes. In fact, I convinced him to shave off the rest of his hair. He wears a neat, short beard and that’s enough hair for me.”

Rodney could see that she meant it, and that was both interesting and puzzling too. She must really love this Sven guy, if something like baldness could be overlooked.

Katie suddenly leaned forward and kissed Rodney on the cheek. She turned to the door and depressed the opening mechanism.

“What was that for?” Rodney asked, touching his face in bemusement.

“That was a random act of kindness,” Katie said. “You should try it some time. Such small things bring order and peace to a chaotic universe. They set the balance right.”

“Oh sure, right.” The sarcasm leached into his voice before he could stop it. “Well, that’s good to know. I’ll keep it in mind the next time the Wraith attack.”

“I’m serious, Rodney. Fine, if you don’t believe me, then consider it my way of trying to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For making me realize that unlike you, I really didn’t belong here in Pegasus, and that I needed to go home. For setting me on the path that would allow me to find my heart’s desire and follow it. I wish with all my heart that you could do the same.” She looked meaningfully at him.

Rodney raised an eyebrow. “I am. I have. What more could I want than to be the chief science officer here in Atlantis? A lost city in another galaxy? Every day is an exercise in fulfilling my dreams.”

“If you say so, Rodney.” Katie smiled over her shoulder as she entered her room. She gave a little wave as the door closed.

Rodney gave a sigh of relief. What a weird and uncomfortable conversation that had been. He glanced at his watch. Huh. It was pretty late, but if he hurried, he might be able to catch his Team at lunch. He wanted to tell them all about running into Katie just now.

****

As it turned out, Teyla and Kanaan had already come and gone, having plans to take Torren out to the mainland that afternoon to visit with the remnants of the Athosian people. After the kidnapping of the Athosians from their settlement on New Athos, the survivors of Michael’s horrific experiments had chosen to relocate to the mainland on New Lantea. Rodney figured that after the terrors of Michael’s labs, the giant poisonous snakes seemed like a manageable threat. It probably didn’t hurt that Atlantis was just a short puddle jumper ride away, either.

He’d missed John too, as he’d left the mess to attend a briefing on a follow up to a meet and greet that he had scheduled for tomorrow. Rodney remembered the planet from when they’d visited it a few months back. Thod was a world poor in resources and operating at a low level of technology. Rodney hadn’t seen much point in going the first time, let alone a second. He’d opted out of tomorrow’s trip, which seemed largely goodwill in nature.

Lately John had been unusually interested in the more textile and manufacturing based societies. He’d also been talking with the Athosians about their crops and handmade goods. When Rodney had pressed him about it, John had loaned him a copy of Eric Flint’s 1632, a story about a small West Virginia town that is transported back in time. Because it was a factory town with lots of skilled workers, the leaders had been able to take advantage of the technological knowledge that they had and create an empire for themselves. It was an interesting, fun read, reminding Rodney that it wasn’t always the scientists and the soldiers that made the best colonists.

“You want to take over the Pegasus galaxy?” Rodney had teased John after he’d read the book.

“No, I want to make Atlantis an independent colony one day.” John deadpanned.

Rodney had started to comment facetiously, but then he’d realized John was serious.

It had been kind of breath taking in the sheer magnitude of rebellion against authority, even for John. It had been kind of exciting as well. No sooner had John spoken, however, then he’d oozed into a lazy lean and drawled, “It only makes sense to make Atlantis self-sufficient in the advent of another siege.”

“Of course, right, right,” Rodney had answered. After that, he’d paid more attention to which planets had raw materials they might trade for, and the kinds of crops that might potentially be useful. Periodically, he’d send an interesting finding to John, or discuss with Teyla the feasibility of planting some specific crop on the mainland. For instance, there had to be a way for them to produce their own tormack.

It would have been a good topic to bring up with Katie—the suitable plants part, not the sedition part. On second thought, maybe not. She was too close with her ties to Earth now. Besides, Rodney was pretty sure Parrish had all that covered. Really, it went without saying. John wouldn’t make a move like establishing independence without taking Lorne into his confidence, and whatever Lorne did, Parrish was going to be on board with that. They were kind of a matched set.

For example, Rodney was aware that John was quietly exerting pressure to expand on the skill set of the people that came to Atlantis now. He chuckled to himself as he recalled the last meeting in which John had lobbied successfully for non-standard replacements to rotating personnel.

Woolsey had been nodding along with John’s recommendation to add a few machinists and some chemical engineers, but he’d balked at the notion of a veterinarian.

“I don’t understand,” Woolsey had said, which was Woolsey-speak for no. “We have no livestock here in Atlantis, except, of course, those laboratory animals that came with the original expedition.” His face had altered subtly, which made Rodney suspect Woolsey had been thinking of the little Yorkie that his ex-wife got in the divorce. “Few, if any, of the diseases we might encounter in Pegasus species would be something that a veterinarian from Earth might be able to identify and treat. I just don’t see the necessity of expanding personnel in this direction.”

John, as usual, had presented his logical arguments first. “We deal with a lot of societies that are agricultural and animal based. We’re diverting our medical staff to help deal with animal-related problems on these worlds now. Seems to me we should at least have a vet to handle those calls. Someone who’s trained to deal with herd health and whatsit—zoonotic disease.”

Woolsey had made the face he makes when he wants to indicate sympathy but still plans to deny the request. A frown had furrowed his forehead and his thin lips had pulled sideways into a grimace. Since it looked like most of Woolsey’s command expressions, Rodney had leaned back to enjoy John’s next move—he’d been sure John had one.

He did.

John had reached forward and tapped the controls for the large screen used for presentations during briefings. On the screen, the words “PRESS RELEASE” appeared in large letters. Below the title, there was a numbered list.

“As you can see,” John had said as he sprawled back in his chair, “the American Veterinary Medical Association has released a statement indicating five reasons why you should have a veterinarian on your team in the event of a zombie apocalypse.”

Rodney had snorted loudly, but John had appeared not to notice.

“Number one,” John had read aloud. “They have a better chance of surviving: veterinarians are really good at avoiding getting bitten.”

Woolsey’s grumpy face had made an appearance. Rodney had known it was his grumpy face by the way Woolsey’s eyes had vanished into narrow slits behind his glasses.

“Number two,” John had continued, blithely unconcerned. “They can provide medical care in the event that you don’t have access to a doctor. Number three—”

Woolsey had cut him off.

“I appreciate your little attempt at humor, Colonel,” Woolsey had said, his tone indicating that he had in fact, not. “However, can we please get back to a serious discussion of personnel changes within the expedition? You don’t really expect a zombie apocalypse now…”

Woolsey had trailed off uncertainly. John had raised both eyebrows briefly and had folded one arm across his chest, to serve as a prop for his elbow as he’d tapped his lips thoughtfully with his index finger.

“This _is_ Pegasus, we’re talking about here.” Rodney had felt compelled to add.

Woolsey had shuddered and given in to the request.

Rodney shook his head and grinned as he thought about it now. That had been a really sneaky thing to pull—everyone knew Woolsey was afraid of zombies. Rodney wondered where Woolsey would stand on separation from Earth. He had a sneaking suspicion it would all depend on whether Woolsey thought John had a viable plan or not.

Rodney intended to see to it that John did.

Not that he devoted a lot of time and energy to this, mind you. His days were already full with his own projects and responsibilities. And if he knew John, this would be one of those ultra-underground plans that came together quietly over a long period of time, until it suddenly burst on the scene in full amour, like Athena from Zeus’s forehead.

Though the others had gone, Ronon was still having a late lunch with Amelia. Or, at least judging by the small pile of bones on Ronon’s plate, picked clean of every scrap of meat, Ronon was just finishing up lunch. Rodney had a strong desire to see Ronon on _Survivor_ one day. He could see Ronon winning the ‘eat this weird food item’ challenge, as well as all the other challenges of strength, cunning, and physical endurance. A team with Ronon on it would be a winning team—and never end up at tribal council. The producers would have to do something to handicap him. Rodney suspected that Jeff and the producers would get a little upset, however, if Ronon killed anyone that got in his way. He couldn’t see Ronon caring about a million-dollar prize, either. It would be meaningless to him.

Rodney went through the lunch line, snagging what was left and wishing he’d gotten here before all the pudding cups were gone.

“You won’t believe who I ran into today!” Rodney announced dramatically as he sat down with his tray across from Ronon and Ameila.

“Dr. Brown.” Ronon said, stealing Rodney’s thunder.

“Damn it, Ronon.” Rodney opened a small packet of creamer and poured just a dollop into his coffee mug. “You could have at least pretended to be surprised.”

Amelia smiled. “Who’s Dr. Brown?” She took a sip from her bottled water. Her plate was nearly empty as well. Rodney was oddly gratified to note that unlike Jennifer, Amelia seemed to eat more than just lettuce. He eyed her thoughtfully as he opened his napkin and re-arranged his silverware. Amelia Banks had meshed in smoothly with the team meals, much like Kanaan, and even Jennifer at one time. Still, he wasn’t sure how much he should share with her. He buttered a roll while he thought about how to answer her question.

Ronon took the matter out of his hands. “McKay almost married her, but then chickened out at the last minute.”

“I prefer to think of it as recognizing that we were not meant to be together,” Rodney said, conscious of the haughty tone in his voice. He took a bite of the mystery meat to avoid further discussion.

Amelia glanced quickly at Ronon before looking at Rodney again. “Um, weren’t you just recently seeing Jennifer?”

Amelia had begun eating with them when Jennifer was still joining them as well. The two women had been excessively polite to each other in the manner that Rodney had come to realize indicated true antagonism, and couldn’t figure out why until he remembered that at one point, Jennifer had shown some interest in Ronon.

“Yeah, and your point?” Rodney couldn’t help but bristle. What was she implying?

Amelia broke into a wide smile. “Nothing, except go you, Rodney.”

Rodney flushed, embarrassed at the compliment, if indeed, it was one. “Get this,” he said to Ronon, by way of getting the subject back on track. “She’s engaged. To some guy named Sven Sorenson.”

He waited for the impact of his words to take effect. “Sven,” he repeated, when Ronon and Amelia just looked at him blankly. “Sven Sorenson. He might as well be named John Smith.”

Ronon frowned, not getting the reference.

“I’ll explain later,” Amelia promised in an aside. She glanced at her watch. “Gee, I should really be going. I’ll see you later, okay?” She directed her words to Ronon, before nodding in Rodney’s direction. “You too, Rodney.”

She picked up her tray and headed toward the return bin.

“Did she just run off and leave the two of us alone?” Rodney asked, puzzled by Amelia’s sudden departure.

Ronon grinned, showing a mouthful of impossibly white teeth. “Maybe. She probably thought you wanted to talk. You know, man to man.”

Rodney ploughed into his food. “Man to Cro-Magnon man is more like it.” He spoke around a mouthful of mashed tormack, and noted that, as usual, his insults seemed to have no effect on Ronon. “What is there to talk about? It was just a little weird, that’s all.”

“How so?” Ronon leaned back in his chair, toying with the bones on his plate carelessly, an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Well, that’s just it. It was like we were talking at cross purposes. She seemed to be implying something, and I just couldn’t figure out what.”

Ronon stopped playing with the desiccated remains of his food and raised an eyebrow. “What did you two talk about?”

Rodney shrugged. He speared a chunk of mystery meat and pushed it around in its gravy before taking a bite. “About Sven, mostly. How I did her a favor when I didn’t propose and she went back to Earth to meet Sven. Something about the intensity of relationships forged under high risk missions and Gate travel, and knowing when you’re with the right person because they let you be you and don’t try to change you.”

Ronon smiled. It was that highly amused smile he made when he was laughing at some private joke that he had no intention of sharing with you.

“Oh!” Rodney added, suddenly remembering. “And she talked about me with Jennifer. Over drinks and everything!”

Ronon’s smile became a grin. “Bet that was an interesting conversation.”

Rodney felt his face heat up. “Apparently Jennifer kept those recordings I made when my brain was turning to mush. She showed them to Katie. Can you believe that? I think I have grounds for a formal complaint.”

“Don’t be such a baby.” Ronon rested his elbow on the back of his chair, a habit he must have picked up from John. “We were there for most of that time. You didn’t say anything to embarrass yourself. Not too much, anyway.”

“Gee, thanks.” Rodney let his sarcasm rest between them for a moment while he poked around on his plate. He looked up with a frown. “It’s just that Katie suggested I should watch them. The recordings, I mean. She said I’d learn a lot from them.”

Ronon raised both of his eyebrows briefly.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Rodney said, combining a forkful of tormack with some peas in order to facilitate eating the peas with a fork. Visually, the combination of green vegetables and the purple tuber was ghastly, but as far as he was concerned, everything tasted better with tormack. He swallowed and took a bite of his buttered bread. “As you said, you were there. What do you think she meant by that?”

“I dunno.” Ronon frowned briefly before his expression lightened. “I know. Why don’t you—”

“Ask Teyla.” Rodney nodded as he completed Ronon’s sentence. “Well, I probably will the next time I see her.” He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Huh. I just realized something.”

“What’s that?” Ronon was starting to look bored, but he also didn’t seem to be in any hurry to go anywhere.

“Well, we’ve all made a habit of eating together for several years now. Really, I think it stemmed from an attempt to teach you table manners.”

Ronon bared his teeth and then deliberately picked up his knife and pretended to pick at them with it.

“Ha, ha. Very funny. You should take that act on the road.” Rodney rolled his eyes. “Anyway—you, me, John, and Teyla. The four of us. The core four, if you will.”

Ronon used the knife to make a rolling motion with his hand, to indicate Rodney should get on with it, and smiled when Rodney made a face at him.

“Yes, yes, I’m getting to it. Right, so the four of us. We eat together pretty regularly. Sometimes others join us, but for the most part—just the team. When I started seeing Katie, I usually ate with her and the other botanists until I couldn’t take it any more. Really, who wants to hear about fungi and their spore prints over breakfast? So I went back to eating with you guys. Katie came for a while, but then she quit.”

She’d stopped coming long before they broke up. She’d said that she felt she was ‘cramping Rodney’s style,’ whatever that meant, and that he should enjoy the company of his friends without her hanging on. It had made him feel guilty at the time, but nothing could induce him to go back to the botanists.

“Then Sam started eating dinner with us sometimes, and that was cool. And Kanaan came with Teyla. And Jennifer joined in, first just because, and later, well, because of me. And now you with Amelia.”

“So?” Ronon leaned forward to rest on his elbows, still playing with the knife. He flipped it back and forth through his fingers one handed, the movement seamless and smooth.

“So.” Rodney frowned, trying to figure out exactly what he was trying to say. “We’re still the focus—the team, that is. But all of the other long term regulars have come more or less as a partner of someone else.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, have you noticed that John has never brought anyone to the team meals? Not once in five years? Doesn’t that seem a bit odd to you?”

Ronon snorted and leaned back again. “Sheppard doesn’t have to invite anyone to join us for food. He has you.”

“What?” Rodney sputtered and choked; Ronon having timed his remark just when Rodney was taking a sip of hot coffee. Rodney set the mug down clumsily and reached for the napkin to wipe his chin.

Ronon was grinning again. “You’re Sheppard’s girlfriend.”

“I’m his _what_?” Rodney spoke loud enough that heads turned in their direction in the nearly empty dining area. “Just what on Earth gave you that idea?” Rodney hissed, lowering his voice and leaning in to speak, so far that he almost put his chest in the mashed tormack.

“His girlfriend,” Ronon repeated, obviously delighted with Rodney’s reaction. “He bitches about work to you, and hangs out with you, and you give him someone to fuss over and bring food to, so yeah, you’re his girlfriend.”

Rodney felt all the blood drain out of his face with relief at Ronon’s definition of a ‘girl friend’ and then it flooded back in with twice the force of before. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Hah. Interesting theory. Right. Oh! Look at the time!” Food suddenly no longer had any appeal. Rodney couldn’t remember the last time that had happened without being the result of an intestinal bug. He made a show of looking at his watch. “Is it that late? Because I’ve got a thing. A thing I said I’d do.” He hastily shoved his chair back and snatched up his tray to return his half-eaten meal. “Um, later, okay? Right.”

He hurried off without waiting for Ronon’s response.

****

He didn’t intentionally seek out Teyla. In fact, if he’d thought about it, he’d have remembered that she had plans with her family this afternoon, but Rodney wasn’t very good at remembering other people’s plans, and so he found himself wandering down the corridor in the general direction of her rooms. He was disappointed when he realized she was probably on the mainland and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.

With a sigh, he decided to go back to the labs. Even if Hastings and Cox had to begin their project all over again before they could get him the data he’d requested, he could be working on other things. His conversation with Katie just nagged at him though, and he’d hoped that he could talk with Teyla, have his moment of enlightenment, and then be able to forget about it.

On his way back to the lab, he decided to go through the mess again and get another mug of coffee, having prematurely abandoned the first one in his desire to get away from Ronon’s uncomfortable teasing. Sure, he could just wait until he got to the labs, but he’d probably have to brew a new pot, and the coffee from the mess really was better, even if all the lab rats pretended that it wasn’t.

He was in the act of adding creamer to his steaming mug when he recalled Katie’s kiss on his cheek, and her words about random acts of kindness restoring order and balance to the universe. He snorted. _Yeah, right_. Still, for some inexplicable reason, he picked up a tray and set up a second mug on it. Might as well take Radek a cup.

He realized the impracticality of his gesture on the way back to the lab. The heavy ceramic mugs held the heat well, but they had no lids, and Rodney was certain that both cups were cooling rapidly as he walked. Oh, well. He supposed they could reheat them in the microwave. It was the thought that counted, right?

“Watch it!” he snapped when one of the marines came around a blind corner and almost ploughed into him.

“Sorry, sir!” the soldier avoided the collision with the quick reflexes of he young and fit. The coffee slopped only a little as Rodney held the tray out in front of him and stood back on his toes.

The marine looked genuinely apologetic. He was one of the new ones—Rodney couldn’t remember their names yet. John had once made a point of reminding Rodney that these soldiers were willing to lay down their lives to protect the expedition members, and Rodney had made a greater effort after that, but it was hard when they looked so much alike. Impossibly young, incredibly fit, hair shorn with brutal, military ruthlessness. Rodney had a hard time picturing John like this twenty years ago, and wondered if even then, John’s hair had defied military regulations and procedure. The young marine just looked at Rodney with worried concern.

It occurred to Rodney that his act of kindness to Radek was probably being negated by his surliness with the marine, so he forced a smile. “That’s okay—I just didn’t want you to burn yourself.”

“No problem, Dr. McKay. I’ll be more careful in the future.” The young man gave Rodney an easy, beautiful smile and continued down the hall. Rodney caught himself sneaking a glance at the marine’s ass as he walked away.

_What was he doing_? He’d made a conscious decision a long time ago that if he wanted to work on the sensitive kinds of projects that attracted him, that he would have to limit his ogling to one sex—namely women. He was known for being a boob man. A generous, boobs-like-melons kind of guy. Although the sight of the marine’s taut, muscular cheeks shifting under his uniform pants did the same sort of thing to Rodney’s cock that boobs straining the fabric of a tight shirt did for him, staring at boobs only made him a jerk. Staring at a guys ass might get him punched—or worse, lose him an opportunity at something like Atlantis.

_But you’re in Atlantis now_. The thought was sneaky, a bit like John’s sedition. Shaking his head, Rodney hurried on his way, hoping to arrive at the lab before a skin formed over his creamed coffee.

That’s when he heard it. The singing.

The melody was haunting and familiar. He knew at once that it was Teyla, but he couldn’t place the tune right away. It sounded like one of her Athosian ritual songs, and yet how would he know any of those? Other than the Ring Ceremony song, which Carson had told him about, he really hadn’t heard anything other than a celebratory Birthing Song, and some lullabies.

He knew this song.

The sound came from one of the balconies. He paused at the open door, holding his tray in front of him, as he looked out to where Teyla stood at the rail. She had Torren perched on one hip, and she sang to him with a fond expression before turning to face the sea. When she reached the chorus, she lifted her other arm and tilted her head back into the thin, winter sun, throwing not only her voice, but also her heart, into the wind.

Of course. It was from _The Return of the King_ , when Frodo and the others sailed into the West.

Teyla’s soaring voice caused an upswell of emotion within Rodney and he felt something very close to tears of joy in his eyes. The sensation was nearly overwhelming. With a sudden flash of blinding insight, he realized the city was reacting to Teyla’s song…and he _felt_ it.

She softened her voice as she lowered her arm and sang the final verse to the sea, and the sky, and the city. Torren laid his head on her shoulder and she looked down on him, smiling. It was then that she noticed Rodney standing there.

“Rodney.” Her smile grew wider as she turned to face him. Torren ducked his head into her shoulder, a reaction to Rodney that always made him feel bad. He needed to try harder not to make Torren uncomfortable but he just wasn’t very good with kids. He could see where the shouting and the hand waving might be a bit alarming for a small child, but it wasn’t always something he was conscious of doing at the time.

He forgot all that in his excitement though. Teyla was flushed; a lovely rosy glow on her cheeks from the biting wind. Rodney appreciated the fact that she showed no embarrassment at all at being caught singing in public. It was one of the things he loved about her. Right now, though, he was less concerned about her unconventional self-assurance, and more excited about what he’d just experienced. He rushed out onto the balcony, slopping the coffee some more until he slowed down.

He practically quivered with the need to speak. “I felt that!” he exclaimed. “Did you feel that? Teyla, the city _loved_ your singing. Didn’t you feel the surge of power?”

Teyla looked startled, and then shyly pleased. “No, I did not, Rodney. It does not surprise me though. Legend has it that the City of the Ancestors was a place of music and light.”

“That was amazing!” Rodney looked around for some place to put the tray. Finding no other option, he set it down on the decking. “Do you know what this means? We should conduct some tests! It might be possible to increase power to the city in measurable amounts—perhaps even long enough to do some real good in an emergency, like the during that storm in the first year. We’ll have to see if it is just you, or singing in general, or if there is a relationship between the number of people singing and the degrees of energy it generates—and we’ll have to come up with a way of containing it because frankly, I can’t see anyone cheerfully singing if the city is under attack, although—”

Teyla laughed, effectively cutting him off. “What is wrong with merely enjoying the moment as it occurs? Perhaps what you felt was your own heart reacting to the song, Rodney, not that of Atlantis.”

“No, no, I’m sure of this.” Rodney shook his head. “I can’t wait to tell John. He’s always been the Fair Haired Child of the city. I can’t wait to tell him I felt something here—me! The guy with the mouse genes!”

Teyla raised an eyebrow, as her smile grew indulgent. She shifted Torren more comfortably on her hip. “I do not think anyone would describe John as the ‘Fair Haired Child.’”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Don’t play the ‘I don’t understand your culture’ card here, Teyla. Oh, that reminds me. I have something I wanted to ask you. I thought you were on the mainland, though.”

As though disappointed now that the song was finished, the sun went behind some clouds, taking with it the small measure of warmth it had offered. The wind picked up as well, and Rodney could see heavy banks of clouds moving slowly in their direction. Earlier, in the warm corridors, basking in the light shining through the great windows, it had been hard to remember that it was winter here. For once, Earth’s calendar matched the planet and hemisphere that they were on, so they’d adopted the Gregorian calendar as their own—but adding an additional day to ‘February’ each year to make up the subtle difference. It wasn’t perfect—Christmas on Earth had already come and gone—but it was close enough that everyone was making a big deal about Christmas this year.

Teyla was dressed for the outdoors, wearing a leather coat and gloves. Torren was wearing a tiny parka that looked suspiciously like it had come from L.L. Bean, but Rodney wasn’t saying anything. He noted a while ago that when it came to Torren, Teyla didn’t always go Athosian.

The wind gusted across the balcony, carrying with it a hint of sleet. Rodney wrapped his arms around himself and wished for his orange fleece jacket. Teyla gestured to the door, indicating that she and Rodney should take shelter there.

“Major Lorne had some business to take care of first, so we are going over shortly. It is the time of the Mid-Winter gathering among my people; Kanaan and I would not miss this for anything less than a true emergency. It is important this year, as so many of us have been lost recently and our numbers are so few.”

Rodney felt a terrible need to apologize. “I’m sorry. I guess that’s why you didn’t invite the rest of us to join you. Our actions here in Atlantis are indirectly responsible for what happened to your people.”

“No more than mine.” Teyla glanced out over the water, her thoughts clearly somewhere else. No doubt recalling when Michael had held her, pregnant with Torren, prisoner because he wanted Torren’s DNA for the experiments he hoped would allow him to take over the Pegasus galaxy. It was a plan so insane even a rabid dog would have given him a wide birth, and Rodney had been not-so-secretly pleased that it was Teyla who had eventually killed Michael.

Torren began to fuss, as though picking up on Teyla’s thoughts, and she tipped her head toward the corridor. Rodney followed her inside.

Teyla shushed Torren gently, speaking to him in a voice too low for Rodney to hear until he giggled and shot a shy glance in Rodney’s direction. Rodney tried to smile in a non-scary fashion and waggled his fingers back at Torren, who smiled back. It felt like a small victory.

“I did not invite you and the others because we are conducting a private healing ceremony this evening. Private because my people wish it that way. Believe me when I say we will all be here for the holiday celebrations you have planned in the city.” Teyla’s smile was beatific, and it warmed Rodney’s heart the way her song had done.

“Well, okay, that’s good. I mean, I wouldn’t want the kids to miss the Christmas presents and feasting and all.”

“What is it you wished to ask me?” Teyla’s smile suggested she saw behind Rodney’s bluster. She adjusted Torren again. He must weigh a ton, Rodney figured. He was getting big.

He had to think for a second what he’d wanted to ask, and then frowned when he remembered. “Oh, nothing really, it’s just that Katie is in the city, and she’d been talking with Jennifer—about me, no less—and she said something about that time when I was losing my mind with the brain parasite—which I am totally going to say something to Jennifer about, believe you me. Anyway, what it came down to was that Katie thought I should watch the tapes. You know, the ones I made when I was trying to hang onto my memories. And I don’t _want_ to watch those tapes. I didn’t know they even still existed. But Katie seemed to think I would get something out of them, and now I can’t stop thinking about that. So, what do you make of that?” Rodney shuffled with embarrassment, not certain if he’d gotten his point across or not. His explanation sounded convoluted, even for him.

At the end of the corridor, Kanaan appeared and raised his hand to catch Teyla’s attention. She waved back, and began walking toward him, Rodney in tow. He appreciated that she wasn’t moving at her usual brisk pace. She was giving him time for an answer to his question, and yet she said nothing at first.

Rodney eyed the distance between them and Kanaan nervously. Finally Teyla spoke. “You could, of course, watch the tapes for yourself.”

“I know, I know.” Rodney slumped his shoulders and sighed. “But that presupposes that I will still get what she means, and you know, when it comes to self-awareness and interactions with other people, that’s not always the case, Teyla.”

Teyla looked as though she was trying to repress a smile. “You would prefer me to, as you say, spoonfeed you the answers?”

“Yes.” Rodney’s agreement was heartfelt. Thank goodness, she got it.

“I will not,” she said primly, and then laughed at his expression. “Very well, I will say two things, and only this one time. You will have to figure out what they mean.”

“Okay,” Rodney said doubtfully. They were almost where Kannan was waiting. He seemed to be able to tell that Rodney and Teyla were having a private conversation; he did not come forward to meet them. Rodney wondered how he could spot things like that, especially at a distance. It must be nice to be so good at reading people.

Teyla paused so she could face Rodney. “First, when you told Jennifer that you loved her, you spoke as would a small child. Children love with all their hearts. Children hate with every fiber of their being. Everything is black and white to them, there is no middle ground. Do you understand?”

“I told Jennifer I loved her?” Rodney was aghast. “But we weren’t even dating then!”

“The second thing is this: you never forgot John. You forgot the events of your youth. You forgot the principles of your science. You never forgot that John was your friend. When you were confused or upset, it was John that you wanted.”

“Yeah, well, that goes without saying.” Rodney waved off her statement. “I mean, we’re a Team, right? I wasn’t all that aware of it at the time, but I understand the risks you guys took to get me to the Shrine—even though you thought it was only going to be for the one day. Leave it to Sheppard to think trephining me was a reasonable idea at the time.” Rodney grumbled, more to himself than Teyla.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he forestalled her. “I know, I know, it saved my life. Or as he put it, ‘let the bad juju out’.” He paused, frowning at an elusive memory. “I think I know what you mean though. I seem to recall I tried to say goodbye, only John wouldn’t let me.”

“He wouldn’t let you?” Teyla frowned as well, jiggling Torren slightly as he got restless again. She cast a quick, apologetic glance at Kanaan. He looked a bit impatient, and signaled they should be going.

“Yeah. I wanted to tell him goodbye—you know, when I still remembered who he was. When I was still me. He flat out refused to let me.” Rodney smiled as the memory grew stronger and took solid form, recalling now how he made John spit beer as they sat on the end of the pier.

“I did not know this. Rodney, do you not see what—”

He cut her off. “I’m holding you guys up. You probably want to get to the mainland and get settled before it gets dark. We can talk later.”

“But…”

“No ‘buts’.” Rodney waved her away and gave a sketchy two-finger salute toward Kanaan, who looked relieved that Teyla was finally moving. “Later.” He turned in the opposite direction and began to walk away.

She looked doubtfully at him for a long moment before she joined Kanaan. Rodney snuck a glance back at the two of them, smiling a little as they touched foreheads together and Kanaan planted a light kiss on Torren’s brow. It wasn’t so much that he wanted a family of his own, Rodney decided, as it was that he wanted the idea of family. The idea of someone that cared that much about him. _You have that already, genius_. The sarcastic voice in his head sounded remarkably like John. _It’s called ‘Team.’_

It should be enough. Why did he want more?

****

“Damn it!” Rodney cursed on entering the lab.

“You should at least wait until you see if something is wrong before you start eating your minions,” Radek said mildly, glancing up from his laptop.

“I was bringing us coffee,” Rodney said, looking around as though he might find the missing mugs somewhere. “I don’t know what I did with it.”

“You were bringing coffee? For me?” Radek pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

“It’s Christmas,” Rodney snarled. He snapped his fingers as he remembered, and stomped back out the door on his way to the balcony once more.

****

“There you are.” Rodney spoke with satisfaction on running into John in the corridor after dinner. “Where have you been all day?”

John pointed at his earpiece. “You could have just radioed if you were looking for me, McKay.”

“I know,” Rodney said. “It’s just every time I thought about it, something else came up. You busy?”

“Nope.” John turned to fall into step with Rodney, even though he’d been going in the opposite direction before.

“I’ve got news.” Rodney raised both eyebrows at John expectantly.

John walked with that easy gait of his, not looking at Rodney as he spoke. “I heard. You ran into Katie Brown today, and she’s been talking with Keller. Who’s been telling tales out of school. Not cool.” John halted abruptly, laying a hand on Rodney’s arm. “You want me to say something to Keller about that?”

“What? No! I am perfectly capable of bearding the lion in the den, if it comes to that. No. I wasn’t talking about that. Honestly, the gossip mill on Atlantis must have been running overtime today.” It was more than a bit upsetting to realize that everyone was talking about him and his failed relationships. “What are people saying? Where’d you hear this? Damn it, who _else_ is Katie talking to?” The more he thought about it, the more upset he became.

“Um, I don’t think it was Katie who said anything. That is, other than to you.” John released his arm and let that statement hang in the air while Rodney processed it.

Damn it, of course Katie hadn’t said anything to anyone else; she wouldn’t. And neither would Jennifer because she was the one in the wrong here. No, the rumor mill had been started by none other than Rodney himself. He must have told everyone he met today how upset he was over Katie seeing those tapes. He groaned and thumped his forehead with the heel of his palm.

“I’m sure everyone will forget about it in a day or two,” John said kindly, which was nice of him. “Something else will come up. You know, like a zombie apocalypse.”

Rodney glared at him. “You had to go and spoil a nice moment by being yourself, didn’t you?”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.” The glance John shot him out of the corner of his eye was serenely smug.

It reminded Rodney of the reason he’d been looking for John. “I felt the city react to something!”

“Get out.” John raised an eyebrow. Without any discussion, they began walking once more.

“No, really.” Rodney got excited all over again. He explained what had happened, his theory about it, and what he was going to do to test it.

John looked skeptical. “Are you sure you weren’t, you know, affected by the song? We’ve watched that movie a lot. Frodo’s going into the West. And Sam’s upset about it. He doesn’t want Frodo to go. It’s sort of a moment there.”

_And yet Sam goes home, gets married, and raises a blond, curly-haired family_. The thought was there and gone in Rodney’s mind so fast that he didn’t know what to make of it. He squinted at John and pursed his lips. “You’re just jealous.”

John looked oddly blank for a moment, as though Rodney had caught him off guard. When he spoke, however, it was with his usual lazy confidence. “Am not.”

“Are too. You’re not the only one the city talks to now. The city likes me too.” Rodney spun on his heel and walked over to the wall, turning his face to lay his cheek against it. He stretched out his arms and pressed his body in until he was in full contact, as though he was giving the city a hug.

“You’re a freak, McKay.”

Rodney just smiled at John’s words. He held the position a second longer before straightening. He could almost imagine the city hugging him back.

As they continued on their way, Rodney elaborated on his plans to test for power surges during musical performances. John pointed out they’d need to determine a baseline first, and if the same results were obtained with live verses recorded music, and vocals verses instrumentals, and if the emotion behind the song had anything to do with it. Rodney took a firm stance against testing any rap or hip hop, and conceded John was right about the parameters of testing. They ended up in front of John’s quarters before Rodney knew it.

“What are you up to now?” Rodney asked. He stood at the entrance to John’s rooms as John entered. Rodney frowned. He’d been under the impression John was headed somewhere else initially.

John crossed over to table, where he picked up a video game. He waggled it in front of Rodney.

“ _Uncharted 3_?” Rodney came into the room to take the game out of John’s hands. The door shut quietly behind him. He flipped it over to read the back of the plastic package. “When did you get this?” It was creepy, but Rodney thought they could have modeled the character of Drake on John.

“Dave sent it for Christmas.” John sounded smug.

_Hah_. Just as well that Rodney had gone with Skyrim. At least, he’d ordered the game—if it didn’t turn up on the manifest from the _Daedalus_ when everything was unloaded, he was screwed. Of all the times for Amazon to fail him. On second thought, maybe he should get John something completely different since Dave got him a game. Dave must be making an effort if he was sending Christmas presents.

Doubt suddenly assailed Rodney. He had to admit, he’d chosen a video game because then he’d have the fun of playing it along with John. Now it felt a bit redundant. He wondered if Radek would be willing to trade for his hand-carved chess set. What else could he get John so close to the holiday?

“Wait.” Rodney looked up from the game to John’s face. “You opened your Christmas present already? It’s not Christmas yet!”

“One.” John snagged the game from Rodney’s hands. “We had a tradition as kids. Mom would let us open one present. Besides, it’s Pegasus.” He shrugged.

Rodney understood all too well what John meant. There was never a guarantee of a tomorrow in Pegasus—especially for someone like John. “It’s Pegasus; eat dessert first.”

“Exactly,” John drawled.

“So what are we waiting for?” Rodney asked, pushing up his shirtsleeves and cracking his knuckles. “Let’s play!”

John just grinned as he went to set up the player.

****

“Behind you,” John warned from his spot on the bed. He was sprawled back against the headboard, as it was Rodney’s turn at the controls. Rodney, as befitting the lead player, was perched on the end of the bed, the controller in his hands, as he frantically worked movements of his character on screen.

“I see him! I see him! Damn it!” Rodney’s character had just knelt to open a treasure chest when a bad guy stepped out of the shadows with a gun. Rodney managed to disarm his attacker, but when they both went for the fallen gun, the bad guy wrested it away and shot Rodney at point blank range. Blood spattered all over the screen and Rodney’s character fell backward in a heap as the screen went dark. “Damn it!”

He threw the controller down beside him on the bed in disgust.

“Not how I would have handled that,” John’s drawl was particularly annoying.

“Well, no shit, Sherlock. I can’t believe you’ve already played this far and you didn’t warn me.”

John sat up, yawned, and brought his hands up to his ears in a stretch that pulled his shoulders back. He was wearing the long sleeved black shirt with the zip at the neck; he must have been cold. Rodney thought it was funny that John so often was cold—it made for lots of good teasing. He thought of Torren’s jacket and wondered if it was too late to order from L.L. Bean. Okay, definitely too late for Christmas, but John’s birthday was coming up after the first of the year.

John swung his feet off the bed and stood up. “Come on,” he motioned with one hand. “Get up. This is important.”

Rodney just sat and stared at him.

John sighed. “I didn’t cheat. I haven’t played this sequence yet. This is about you not knowing the right thing to do when someone’s trying to get the drop on you.”

“I got the gun away! I think that’s pretty good, considering he was armed and I wasn’t.”

“Very nice,” John conceded with a half smile. “Only then he got it back. And killed you with it. Your mistake was in going for the gun before you’d taken the guy out completely. Come on. You be at a console, and I’ll be the bad guy.”

Rodney heaved himself off the end of the bed and knelt laboriously on the floor. “And why am I at a console and not at a treasure chest?”

John’s smile was a bit smug. “Because you’re far more likely to be half under a console when someone sneaks up on you here in Pegasus than at a treasure chest.”

“See if I share any of my treasure with you when I find it,” Rodney grumped as he got down on his hands and knees.

“Okay, so I’m the bad guy. I’ve got a gun and you don’t.” John took a decisive step forward and aimed his hand like a cocked gun at Rodney’s head.

“Just a gun?” Rodney asked. “I mean, how scared should I be? Are we talking a long barreled Colt .22 revolver, or a black power ball and musket, or—”

“It’s a Glock 19 Gen 4,” John said in a tight, impatient manner. “The G19 is a medium-sized lightweight polymer framed 9mm.” He could have been reading from the manual. “Its standard capacity magazines hold 15 rounds. The answer to your question is ‘very scared’.”

“Are you Wraith, Genii, or someone else?” Rodney glanced to his side, where he had a close up view of John’s bare feet standing just to the left of his knee. Rodney didn’t think feet were particularly attractive as body parts went, but it suddenly struck him that John had nice feet, and that seemed singularly unfair. Couldn’t John have _one_ unattractive feature?

“Someone else. So between that and the weapon, you have to assume I will kill you without a second thought.” John’s voice was a husky purr. Something in it suggested that Rodney had better stop asking stupid questions. A little shiver ran mouse-like up the small of Rodney’s back.

“You. Come out from under there with your hands up.” It was creepy, but it didn’t even sound like John. Or rather, it sounded like a weird alternative universe John. An evil John. Rodney half-expected to find John wearing a neatly trimmed beard when he slowly sat up and turned in John’s direction. The idea made his pulse start to pound.

He held his hands partially raised, so that his fingertips were at shoulder height. He looked up at John’s face. The expression there was cool and disdainful, that of a stranger. Suddenly, it suddenly shifted and John was there again. “Come on, McKay. What would you do?”

Rodney eyed his options, trying to remember his self-defense lessons. Most of them seemed to start with him on his feet, and his mind blanked in this situation. Nervously, he glanced up and down John’s body, looking for an angle of attack, when he noticed that John had an impressive erection. Practically at nose level, it was hard to miss. And look, John dressed to the left.

“Well,” Rodney smirked, “I could always offer you a blow job.”

John’s face underwent a complete loss of expression, as though it had been wiped clean. Rodney watched in fascination as John’s cock made a sort of rippling movement, visible where it bulged underneath his BDUs. As though it was begging for Rodney’s mouth.

_What would it be like to suck John_? It wasn’t something they’d ever done—they hadn’t ever gotten further than unzipping their flies and reaching into each other’s pants before. Rodney suddenly had a strong urge to see John’s cock. All of it. To feel the warm weight and heft of it in his hand, to put his mouth over the smooth end and taste John there. He licked his lips, catching his lower one in his teeth briefly.

His cock throbbed in response to his thoughts. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet John’s once more.

“Under certain circumstances, that could either work as a distraction until you could take advantage of your attacker—or it could get you killed.” John’s pupils were wide and dark, making him look ten times more dangerous than he had when he was pretending to be the bad guy. “You’d have to be able to read your opponent correctly. And it would have to be worth it.” He held Rodney’s eye contact for the span of several thudding heartbeats before his eyes narrowed and his lips twisted in a pouty sneer. He formed the fake gun with his fingers again. “Come on. Take me out.”

Rodney tightened his mouth and pushed himself up, going for John’s ‘gun’ hand. John blocked him easily, knocking him to the floor, and drawing a bead on him. “Bang. You’re dead. The problem with you, McKay, is you are always thinking linearly.”

“What? I am not! I can think outside the box better than anyone else here in Atlantis!” Rodney huffed as he started to get to his feet, but John pushed him back down on his knees.

“When it comes to defending yourself, yes, you do. You need to keep one eye out behind you at all times and not be so engrossed in what you’re doing that you lose track of things around you.”

“I would like to point out for the record that typically in these situations, if I am uber-focused on a task, it is because it’s a matter of life-or-death, and people are counting on me to save the day. I’m counting on _you_ to watch my back, or cover my six, or whatever. That’s what you’re there for.”

John looked at him for a long moment before shrugging. “I’m not always going to be there, McKay.”

“You lie!” Rodney kicked at his shin, rather harder than usual. “Yes, you are.” _Say you are, it’s Christmas, damn it_.

John opened his mouth to protest, but changed his mind instead. “Whatever you say, Rodney.” That mercurial, half smile was in place. Irritated, Rodney wanted somehow to wipe it off his face.

“For the sake of argument, your attacker is expecting you to make a move. Don’t make the obvious one. Just now, when I came up and ordered you to surrender, you should’ve come out swinging. You’re at ground level; you could have hit the top of my foot—hurts like hell and I can’t defend it—and then knocked me off balance with a blow to the back of my knee. Your other prime targets, the groin and the solar plexus, are out of your reach at the moment. Don’t strike there first—go there after you’ve hurt the guy elsewhere. You come out hitting hard, and you keep hitting until your opponent is incapacitated—then you go for the weapon.”

“What if you shoot me in the meantime?” Rodney put his fists on his hips and glared.

“That’s why you have to make the first blow count. If you can’t get to the weapon easily, you have to make sure your opponent can’t use it because he’s in too much pain, or blinded, or off balance. Now try it again. On your hands and knees.”

Rodney complied, feeling a weird frisson of reaction as he did so. The posture suddenly struck him as highly suggestive, and once again, his cock reacted to that idea. It began to fill, hot and heavy, between his legs as he positioned himself at John’s command. It was terribly distracting, and he almost shifted his weight to one hand so he could adjust himself.

“You! Come out of there with—”

Rodney didn’t let John finish. He wheeled and ploughed backward into John like a human bowling ball. John lost his balance and fell back, arms pinwheeling as he tried to remain standing. He fell with a muffled ‘whump’ of sound to the bed. Rodney chortled with glee as he pressed his advantage, scrambling up to throw himself on top of John.

He pinned John to the bed, grabbing his ‘gun’ hand and repeatedly smacking it against the mattress in an effort to make John let go of the imaginary gun.

“Ow, controller!” John complained, pawing in the direction of his back.

“Oh! Sorry!” Rodney said, easing up. The only warning he got was a flash of John’s wicked smile, and then John threw one leg over Rodney’s hips. He grasped Rodney’s shoulder and began twisting him onto his back, putting his whole body into flipping Rodney off of him.

“Oh, no fair, you big cheater! You made me think I was hurting you!” Rodney fought back in the only way he knew how. He pinched and pummeled, but John was a lot stronger than Rodney had given him credit for, given the way Ronon and Teyla both seemed to easily best him in their sparring matches.

He realized that John must not always be trying with them, because really, how could he have taken out Kolya’s elite strike force all by himself unless he was a pretty damn good fighter? That sent another little spurt of excitement through him. Either that or it was the wrestling hold John was trying on him. John grunted and pushed against him. Rodney squirmed and pushed back. It brought their cocks into full on, grinding contact.

“All’s fair when you’re fighting for your life.” John’s laugh was a bit breathless, and it dawned on Rodney how very much like sex this was. _Well, in that case…_

Rodney surged forward with the intention of pushing John back down on the bed, so that he could kiss him. _Two could play the ‘all’s fair’ card_.

The door chime sounded. Startled, Rodney gaped, mouth open down at John, who looked up at him with burning intensity. Rodney could feel John’s heart thudding at an accelerated rate beneath his chest.

The chime rang again.

“Come in!” Rodney shouted without thinking, at the same time John yelled, “Hang on a sec!”

The door opened. Ronon, Amelia, and Jennifer stood in the doorway. Ronon grinned widely at the sight of them tangled on the bed. Amelia looked as though she was trying to swallow her smile, and Jennifer’s expression was one of outright shock. The color faded away from her face to return in ugly, red blotches on her cheekbones and neck.

Rodney was vividly reminded of the photo that had made the internet rounds a few years back: a slightly amusing candid shot of a bulldog and a cat caught clutching each other in what could only be described as a compromising position, the tapetal flare of their retinas making them look all the more startled.

He guessed he was the bulldog right now.

“I can explain…” he began.

Sheppard shoved him rudely onto the floor. “ _Uncharted 3_ ,” he said, cutting off any further explanation on Rodney’s part.

“Ah,” Ronon said sagely. “And McKay got taken out?”

“Yep.” John got easily to his feet. He didn’t offer to help Rodney up.

Rodney felt a great pressure to keep his words to a minimum here, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to say or not say, as the case may be. “Right. Well. The remainder of that demonstration can wait for another time, Colonel.” He pulled himself to his feet using the side of the bed. It looked quite rumpled. Feeling as though it would be unwise to straighten the covers, he tugged at his shirt instead and smoothed it down.

“We stopped by to see if you wanted to help us with the decorations in the commons area, John.” Jennifer seemed a bit stiff. “Of course, you too, Rodney. If you’re not otherwise occupied, that is.”

“Sounds like fun,” John drawled. Rodney shot him a sharp look. That was John’s ‘be nice to the natives’ voice—the one he used when they’d been asked to participate in some alien ritual that was sure to be embarrassing or uncomfortable for all.

John didn’t look at Rodney as he collected his boots and fished his socks out of them.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rodney added belatedly. “Decorations. Yay. What fun.”

“Zelenka’s got booze.” Ronon gave them a knowing smirk.

John and Rodney exchanged a small glance.

“Well, then,” Rodney said, rubbing his hands together briskly. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

They began walking toward the commons. Jennifer still looked uncomfortable, and she seemed to be lingering behind the others.

“Rodney, can I have a word with you?” She sounded unhappy.

Rodney remembered that he was pissed with her at the same time he remembered that he’d put her in an awkward position by complaining to all and sundry about her behavior without speaking to her first. _Well, too bad_. It was her fault this mess had started in the first place.

He saw John slow down and cast a glance back, one eyebrow raised. Rodney gave the tiniest of negative shakes to his head. John’s nostrils flared, but he picked up his pace and joined Ronon and Amelia, who had forged ahead.

Rodney halted, and folded his arms across his chest. He had nice arms; he knew this. He knew this stance was impressive. So many times in their relationship, Jennifer had thrown him off balance. For once, he wasn’t above using anything in his admittedly limited arsenal to keep the upper hand.

Jennifer stopped too, turning to face him. Her eyes were wide and dark, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears. She had her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, but a piece had pulled out and curled around her face. Rodney was reminded of how very young she was, and for all her brains, how she could be socially inept at times too.

It was one of the few things they’d had in common.

“Rodney, I’m so sorry.” Her lower lip quivered, and she bit it briefly. She used the edge of one finger to wipe a tear that had spilled out of the corner of her eye. “I was out of line and unprofessional, and I wouldn’t blame you if you complained to the SGC and the medical board.”

_Oh, damn_. The one thing he couldn’t deal with. Tears.

“Now, now,” he said unhappily. He started to pat her on the shoulder, but let his hand drop to his side mid-attempt.

He was never going to understand women. For some reason, the fact that he _didn’t_ explode in a McKay meltdown of astronomical proportions made Jennifer’s tears appear in greater number.

“It was wrong and stupid and worse, unethical.” Jennifer continued to wipe at her tears ineffectually. Rodney patted his pockets looking for a handkerchief, despite the fact he never carried one.

“I don’t know what came over me. I guess I had the tape on my mind because I was reviewing them for a paper I was writing on the brain parasite—not using you by name, mind you!” She held up a hand as if to stop Rodney’s objections, fingers splayed with tension. “No, you were ‘Subject X’. It’s just that I’d been watching the tapes when Katie came in and we went back to the lab after we’d had a few beers, and you know what a lightweight I am when it comes to beer…” She trailed off, looking miserable.

Rodney did know. The first time Jennifer had invited him out for a beer, she’d dozed off after the second one. Rodney had put it down to the exhaustion and stress of the day, until it had happened the second time too.

She seemed unsettled by his silence. “Anyway, something she said reminded me of something _you’d_ said, and I wanted to show her that part on the recording, only I had to search for it a bit, and the long and short of it is, we watched more of the recordings than we should have.”

“Well,” Rodney said slowly. “I owe you a bit of an apology too. Not on the same order of magnitude, mind you, because, hello, injured party here.” He huffed a bit and remembered he was supposed to be apologizing. “But I should have said something to you first instead of airing my grievances to all who would listen. Are you going to get in trouble?”

“I got a reprimand from Woolsey. He said that’s as far as it would go, though, unless you made a formal complaint.”

“Well, shit. I’m sorry about that, Jennifer.” Rodney meant it.

“Oh, it’s not too bad.” Jennifer wiped away the last of the tears and gave him a watery smile. “Woolsey says it makes me human. He said I was creepily perfect before.”

Rodney snorted and indicated they should catch up with the others. “He has a point.”

Jennifer placed a hand on Rodney’s arm as they walked. “So, are we good?”

He patted her hand gently, feeling a bit like an elderly uncle as he did so. “Yeah, we’re good.” He realized that her discomfort on seeing him and John wrestling was largely due to his unexpected presence, and not the wrestling itself, and the relief made him generous.

****

The commons area had the makings of a party getting underway when they arrived. Rodney was weirdly reminded of the activities prior to a high school dance—not that he’d attended many of those. He’d typically been the guy drafted to set up equipment. Glancing around the room now, he recognized some of the clipboard efficiency of former cheerleaders and glee squad members.

He thought seriously about making an excuse to leave. Instead, he spotted John over by the table where Radek was manning a punchbowl. Rodney went to join him.

“Everything okay?” John handed him a plastic cup, which appeared to contain a pinkish liquid and globs of some sort of purple foam that looked disturbingly like it might be tormack. It was cold to the touch.

“Yes.” Nice to know that John would have had his back if needed. “What’s in this?” Rodney asked suspiciously, more out of habit than anything else. He knew John would have vetted the punch before giving him any.

“It is a new recipe I am trying.” Radek ladled out another cup and handed it to Miko, who accepted it with a smile and a quick nod in Rodney’s direction. “Apple juice, raspberry sherbet, and vodka.”

“Damn,” John said with a straight face. “And here I was hoping for Jello shooters.”

“I am saving those for Christmas,” Radek said, with a little lift of his eyebrows. Rodney couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

Rodney took a sip and decided it wasn’t half-bad. Though Radek probably could have left out the sherbet. And the apple juice. A glass or two of Radek’s poison was probably the only way Rodney would get through the evening. He was edgy and frustrated, and since being denied of what might have been a fifth time with John (but hey, who’s counting?), he could use a little alone time right now. Not that he was sure it had been about to happen—after all, there hadn’t been any precipitating cause this time. Still, he thought it had been about to happen and it certainly _felt_ like it had been about to happen and to have it be interrupted was… disappointing.

In the center of the hall was a giant fir tree. Well, it wasn’t as if Pegasus had any shortage of those. A group of engineers was inspecting it to make sure it was level and anchored securely. Rodney figured that would take a while, given the nature of engineers and the fact that there was more than one involved, and looked around to see what else needed doing. Several people were wheeling in a keyboard—it looked like the choral group was planning a practice.

Jennifer had left Rodney on their arrival to join several women who were directing the placement of shiny garlands and lights around the room. Rodney somehow wound up doing a sound check for the musical instruments, and the last time he saw Ronon, he was helping Chuck set up a ladder so that someone could decorate the top part of the tree.

Several glasses of punch later, Rodney was feeling rather mellow, and pleased with the steady progress the decorators seemed to be making. Everything was busy, bright, and festive. A long way from the irritable sessions he remembered as a child, when his father had cursed the tangled lights, and Rodney had felt as though he was in the way.

“There,” he said as he completed the set up of the sound system. Woolsey had wanted to have the celebration videotaped as well, so Rodney made sure the camera placement was correct and the feeds worked. He shut out errant memories of the time he video-recorded his goodbyes to Jeannie near the end of their first year—the time when they thought they were all going to die.

John kept those recordings, Rodney realized, remembering how John had showed them to Jeannie that one time. _Huh. Wonder why he saved those?_ They made Rodney cringe to think about them now. What was it about him and videotapes that made everyone want to hang onto the copies? Was he that entertaining? Of course, the creepy reason John might have kept those early tapes was in the event of Rodney’s actual death. To have something to give Jeannie. John probably didn’t make an ‘in the event of my death’ recording then. Rodney wondered if he’d made one now.

He handed off the microphone to Chuck, who’d been helping him. “That’s going to do it.”

“Oh, I don’t think I can bear to watch!”

The feminine protest from behind him caught his attention and he turned to see John at the top of the ladder, leaning out precariously to place the star on the top of the tree. The forced stretch caused his black shirt to ride up, exposing his hipbone as he leaned out over the tree.

That little three inch gap between shirt and pants held an odd, magnetic appeal for Rodney, and he stared until John had placed the star and straightened on the ladder once more. The crowed cheered and clapped.

“That’s nothing,” Rodney said to the admiring med tech gazing adoringly up at John. “He’s free climbed the city walls before. On more than one occasion.”

The way the technician gasped and placed a hand over her heart made Rodney regret he’d said anything.

“Tell me, Dr. McKay.” Her voice was practically a coo. “Seeing as you’re such good friends with the Colonel and all. Is he, you know, seeing anyone?”

Rodney took a hard look at her and realized that if John had a type, she was it. Lean, elegant, with long, dark hair curling just below her shoulders. She looked like one of the leggy, horsewomen-slash-supermodel types that John had probably grown up with as a child, and had even married at one time.

Rodney hated her on sight.

“Who _isn’t_ he seeing?” Rodney said, infusing an envious, ‘that lucky dog’ tone into his voice.

The technician eyed John speculatively before moving off. Rodney had to be satisfied with that. Okay, technically, he was cock blocking here, but according to Ronon, John didn’t need a girl friend.

It had to be Radek’s punch that was making him feel so smug right about now.

The thought of punch made him return to the bowl for a refill. Now that the decorations were nearly done, people were starting to gather in close proximity to it, chatting as they sipped from plastic cups. As Rodney walked up, Amelia was explaining to Ronon the origin of some of the Christmas traditions, and Jennifer expounded on how many of them had been adopted by the Church.

“‘If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em?’” Ronon made the quotation a question.

“Pretty much,” Rodney agreed with a snort. “The Church probably realized that it was one battle they couldn’t win.”

“Okay, let’s call a moratorium on discussing religion and politics, please.” Jennifer spoke firmly, as though issuing medical orders she expected to be followed. She had obviously recovered from her earlier bout of contrition.

“Hey, I didn’t start it!" Rodney protested.

“In all fairness, no, you did not. Still, you know how acrimonious these discussions get.”

“She means you fight dirty, McKay.” Ronon grinned evilly. Amelia punched him lightly in the arm, but she was smiling. It must be nice when your girlfriend was amused by the same things that you were.

“Well, I do have an unfair advantage when it comes to irrefutable logic and brains.” Rodney pointed to his temple. Jennifer just rolled her eyes.

The choral group was starting a rehearsal off to one side, members gathering around the keyboard that Rodney had just finished setting up. A couple of people wandered over, plastic cups in hand, obviously intent on listening. Rodney looked around for John.

He spied John just as he was just stepping down off the ladder. He watched as John sauntered over to join them, getting stopped more than once by someone who wanted to speak with him.

Everyone wanted John’s attention, it would seem. What did John want? Rodney didn’t know.

“Oh!” Rodney snapped his fingers as John walked up. “Another parameter in the singing tests. ATA carrier verses non-carrier. I need you to sing a song.”

John laughed, his real, braying laugh, the one Rodney could never believe came from him. It was so dorky and uncool. “I haven’t had enough to drink for that. How about you instead?”

Rodney imitated playing the piano with his hands. “My musical ability is limited to instruments. Come on, John. A little song. Sing with the chorus; they won’t care.”

“What’s this?” Ronon had been speaking quietly with Amelia, but now he’d caught the tail end of Rodney’s conversation with John.

Rodney quickly explained.

“Why don’t we all sing?” Jennifer suggested. “The chorus is doing carols.” She indicated the singers gathered round the keyboard as they began to sing, _Let it Snow_.

“I don’t have any way of testing it now,” Rodney complained.

Jennifer rolled her eyes again. “Think of it as practice.” She linked arms with him, dragging him toward the singers. He cast his glance helplessly back at John, who appeared to take pity on him and trailed negligently along behind. Ronon and Amelia followed as well.

Their actions seemed to have started a general movement as most of the crowd gravitated toward the singers. One by one, the crowd began to join the singers on the familiar carols. The choir passed out music books, and Jennifer held one up to share with Rodney. As they sang, he thought about the way the sound seemed to fill the vaulted room, as though it had been built for it. Music too, seemed to be a big part of the season. It was funny how little thought he’d given it before.

Ronon listened while the others sang—Rodney realized it must be hard when you didn’t know the words and couldn’t even read the songbooks available. He made a mental note that he should discuss with John teaching English to Ronon, and Kanaan, too, for that matter. He was pretty sure Teyla had taught herself, but maybe they needed a written ESL course in Atlantis. Surely, they had something like that in place already. He’d have to ask.

“I’m glad to see you getting into the spirit of things, Rodney,” Jennifer said, during a break in one of the songs. She took his arm again. “I’m glad we’re okay too.”

Rodney turned a beaming smile on her. “I just can’t believe how _bad_ a singer John is! I never thought I’d find something he wasn’t good at, but whoa, he really tanks!”

Jennifer let go of his arm.

The carolers reorganized themselves as a couple of members began tuning additional instruments. The crowd that had gathered started to drift as some people went back to cleaning up and others called it a night. Woolsey came over to join the carolers, dressed in a very nice business suit. Rodney knew that this was Woolsey’s way of dressing down, which reassured him in a weird way. It meant Woolsey was just as much a misfit as the rest of them.

“Hey, Woolsey,” Ronon said in that sly way of his, that meant he was up to something that he thought would be funny. “McKay is looking for singers to test a theory he has.”

“Oh really?” Woolsey eyed Rodney with that mix of opportunistic interest and mild unease that seemed to characterize everything he did.

Rodney explained.

“That’s fascinating, Dr. McKay.” Try as he might, Woolsey never seemed to get the hang of addressing people informally in Atlantis. “I would be honored to participate in the study, if you need volunteers.”

“You sing?” Rodney knew he sounded doubtful, and wished he didn’t.

“I wanted to be an opera signer at one point,” Woolsey said wistfully. He shrugged the sentiment off a second later. “Anyway, feel free to call on me for any assistance I can offer.”

“Give us a sample,” Ronon said, his voice sly with amusement and just a hint of maliciousness.

Woolsey eyed him for a moment, as though he knew exactly what Ronon was doing. Without further hesitation, he opened his mouth and song began to pour out in silver, liquid perfection.

He’d chosen to sing _Bring Him Home_ from Les Miserables. Rodney was familiar with the song in the way that he was familiar with any famous song from a popular musical. But he’d never heard it like this, not gentle and perfect, building from the throat of a man who fully understood what he was asking from God. Each word was a prayer of safety and salvation, a plea with a hard Almighty to spare just one life and bring him home again.

The room fell silent as Woolsey sang. Rodney felt the words reach out and choke him as Woolsey reached the climax of the song. His voice swelled until it filed the large room and, though it may have been Rodney’s imagination, the overhead lights seemed to glow even brighter.

_You can take_  
You can give  
Let him be  
Let him live  
If I die, let me die  
Let him live  
Bring him home  
Bring him home  
Bring him home.

Woolsey stretched out the final notes in the falsetto the song called for. It was as though the crowd was holding its breath until he finished; then everyone broke out into wild cheering.

Rodney realized with awful, perfect clarity that he felt this way about John. He felt it when he’d watched the red dot moving across the viewscreen, indicating John’s ship on a suicide run toward the Wraith hive ship. He felt it when they’d all waited to hear John’s voice after detonating a naquadah reactor over the city that time they were exposed to the virus that killed Dumais and the others. It had grabbed his heart in an iron fist and squeezed when they’d all watched in horror as Todd fed on John at Kolya’s command, draining years from his face on camera in front of them…

Rodney loved John. And not just in the way that a friend loves another friend.

_Fuck_.

The lights on the Christmas tree suddenly came on, starting at the bottom and zipping up the string until the star on top glowed. Rodney saw Chuck standing with a stupefied expression on his face, holding the cable for the lights in one hand, and the adapter cable for the city’s power systems in the other. The two were not connected.

Rodney stood watching dumbly as Ronon moved deliberately toward Woolsey.

Woolsey shrank against Ronon’s approach, but stood his ground when Ronon came face to face with him. He closed his eyes when Ronon embraced him, lifting him off the ground. Woosley hung limply in Ronon’s crushing embrace, his arms pinned to his side, his face averted to protect his glasses.

No one commented on the tear tracks running down Ronon’s face. When he set Woolsey back on his feet, he took Amelia by the hand, and without another word, left the commons.

“Right,” Rodney said to Woolsey, after clearing his throat. He deliberately avoided looking at John, who was standing close beside his right shoulder, close enough that he could feel the heat coming off John’s body. “So I can put you down for testing…say the day after tomorrow at nine AM? Check your schedule and get back to me.”

****

Though he was loathe to admit it, Rodney suspected he had a touch of a hangover the next morning. It didn’t help that despite the potency of Radek’s finest Rodney had not slept well. Realizing that he loved John had been one of those epiphanies that blindsided you and left you staggering around while you recovered from the blow.

A hangover was the only way he could explain his actions. On entering the lab, he found that Dr. Cox was already there, hunched over her desk. She was making snuffling noises, and after suffering through them with increasing irritation, Rodney finally asked her what was wrong.

“Nothing you’d understand,” she said, but without her usual snap.

Thoughts of order and balance entered his mind, and he cursed Katie Brown for putting them there.

“Try me,” he said, making sure there was no additional sigh.

Dr. Cox stared at him for a moment. She was obviously struggling to maintain control. “I just got word from my folks this morning. My old dog is missing. She’s been gone a couple of days—at least according to the message, which was delivered with the weekly data stream.”

Rodney didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like there was anything constructive that could be done—not from this distance in space and time. He offered anyway. “Do you want to take the rest of the day off?”

Rebecca Cox’s face slid into a cool mask, which reminded Rodney a bit of John. “No, thank you. I’d rather keep working.”

Rodney nodded briskly and went to his workstation, but he found it hard to settle to any one task. He found himself vividly recalling the day his father had brought home a puppy he’d found at work.

The puppy was black lab mix, with white socks freckled with the sort of markings he’d later learned was called Irish spotting. The puppy had been very young; his eyes still had that immature bluish coloring. Rodney had been about four at the time, and had marveled at the perfection of the young pup. White nails, with black paw pads as soft as his mother’s deerskin gloves. When the puppy had yawned, his little pink tongue had curled at the tip, and he’d had the unusual odor that his father had called “puppy breath.”

Rodney hadn’t thought of the puppy in years. His father had put it in a cardboard box in the kitchen by the stove, but Rodney had taken it out and up to his room. Together, the two of them had curled on the rug by Rodney’s bed, while he whispered stories of the great adventures they would have together in the pup’s silky ear. He’d named it Max.

His mother had disapproved, loudly. When Rodney woke the next morning, Max was gone. Rodney never did find out what happened to him.

Unable to concentrate, he finally got up to make a pot of coffee. After a bit, he found himself hovering near Dr. Cox. She looked up at him suspiciously.

“So is your dog microchipped?”

“Yes.” Dr Cox frowned.

Rodney snapped his fingers together a few times, before bumping his fists together. “Do you have anything here with your dog’s DNA on it?”

Puzzlement and hope warred on Dr. Cox’s face. “I have one of her old collars.” She looked a little sheepish as she explained. “I knew it was unlikely I would ever see her again when I came to Pegasus. I just wanted something to remind me of her.”

“Perfect,” Rodney said, rubbing his hands together. “Go get it.”

****

Later that afternoon, Rodney pushed back from his workbench and yawned. He’d gotten a good day’s work in so far; it was time to take a break. Lunch was sounding pretty good right about now, at least, as far as his growling stomach was concerned. It wasn’t often that he got on a roll and accomplished so much in one morning. Usually he was interrupted by the crisis du jour, and had to drop everything to put out the fires. It was nice to make some progress on long standing projects for a change, and he was feeling very productive when he stood up and stretched muscles stiff from sitting in one place for too long.

His radio earpiece went off, making him jump.

“Dr. McKay? Woolsey here. I need to see you in my office right away. It’s urgent.”

Rodney acknowledged and was out the door in a flash. Somehow, he knew it had something to do with John.

****

“I should have gone with them.” Ronon was pissed, the sort of pissed that would normally make Rodney feel sorry for whomever was on Ronon’s shit list, only this time, Rodney was pissed as well.

“Laying blame and accepting responsibility doesn’t help us now.” Woolsey spoke in his usual, prim manner. “What matters is how we deal with this and how we safely get Colonel Sheppard back without endangering Dr. McKay.”

“There’s no question there,” Rodney growled. “We do as they ask. I go alone through the gate with the supplies they require and I fix whatever it is that’s broken. End of story.”

“With all due respect,” Woolsey said, uttering the words that usually meant anything other than respect, “I can’t really let you do that. Frankly, you’re more valuable an asset to the expedition than Colonel Sheppard is—you’re more irreplaceable.”

“What?” Rodney had half-risen out of his seat along with Ronon.

Woosley raised a placating hand. “That’s not just my opinion; that’s a direct order from the Colonel as well.” He sighed. “You know as well as I do, Dr. McKay, we can’t give in to this sort of hostage situation. If we give in once, we will put every member of the expedition at risk of being kidnapped every time they go through the Gate.”

“Fuck that shit,” Rodney snapped. “I’m going.”

Woolsey looked pained. Apparently, Katie wasn’t the only one who disapproved of Rodney’s language.

Woolsey sighed. “That’s non-negotiable. I would have thought you would have realized that fact during the time that Commander Kolya captured and tortured Colonel Sheppard. This is no different.”

A plan, a weird sort of Sheppard-plan, began to take shape in Rodney’s mind. “What if we only made them _think_ we were meeting their demands?” he asked slowly.

Woolsey frowned. He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I’m listening,” he said.

****

“Relax McKay,” Ronon said.

Rodney was preparing to go through the Gate, ticking off the items on his checklist of things he needed to take with him to ransom John. He glanced up sharply at Ronon. “I’m not happy about this, you know.” He wasn’t. He wasn’t used to going off without his Team. The couple of times he had done so in the past had been unmitigated disasters.

“It’s a good plan. As good as we can get, under the circumstances. Sheppard would be proud. All you have to do is play your part and leave the rest to us.”

“If they’ve hurt him—” Rodney began.

“You know the drill. Get proof of life before you do any work.”

Rodney nodded, unable to speak without betraying emotions he still didn’t know how to handle. He shoved his toolkit into his backpack with ruthless force.

Lorne and another marine came over to join them. They were both dressed in combat gear and carrying P-90s.

“Are we set?” Lorne asked. His expression was forbidding. Good. Lorne was pissed too. Rodney thought everyone should be royally pissed about this situation. It suddenly hit him like a sledgehammer between the eyes why he considered Lorne and Parrish a ‘matched’ set and he couldn’t believe one man could be so oblivious for all these years.

“I think so. Just about. Yes.” Rodney gave his supplies another quick once over and checked to make sure all the tabs on his tac vest were fastened. His epiphany about Lorne made him nervous, and he couldn’t meet Lorne’s eye.

“Good.” Lorne touched his radio earpiece to speak to Chuck in the command center. “We’re all set here.” He glanced up at the control deck where Woolsey was standing at the rail.

“Good luck, gentlemen,” Woosley called down from the balcony. “Bring the Colonel home.”

His words went like a bolt through Rodney’s heart.

He started when Lorne touched his arm. “Everything will be okay, McKay. You keep them occupied, and we’ll come in behind you.” Lorne gave his arm a little squeeze and then he stepped away to speak to the squad of marines waiting in readiness behind them.

“Hey you!” Rodney stopped the marine who would have followed Lorne. It was the young man from the corridor the day before.

He turned with a quizzical look, obviously torn between politeness and duty. “Yes sir?” he asked.

“What’s your name?” The dialing sequence on the Gate began, the chevrons lighting up as they locked in. Normally Rodney loved watching the Gate come to life and spin. It was like a giant roulette wheel in Vegas, and adventure, discovery, and danger were the stakes. Today it functioned as a countdown clock. He only had a moment to say what he needed to say.

“Lieutenant Aubrey, sir.” The marine flicked a glance in Lorne’s direction, but waited for Rodney to speak.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I like to know who’s covering my six.”

Lt. Aubrey flashed him a quick grin and hurried to join Lorne.

The last chevron locked into place, and the surface of the wormhole rushed outward in a plume of energy before settling into a rippling serenity.

“Teyla’s going to be here, right?” Rodney spoke in a rush, knowing he needed to go through the Gate now no matter what.

“She and Kanaan are landing now. Go on. We’ve got this.” Ronon clapped him on the shoulder in a manner that could have been interpreted as a push toward the Gate.

For once, he didn’t mind the frigid journey through the Gate, allowing as it did, for him to contain his anger and appear reasonably calm.

On the other side of the Gate, the skies were leaden and dull. A thin rain misted Rodney’s face and clothing. The fields around the gate held rain-flattened grass and a lot of mud. On a second visit, Thod was as uninviting as the first. The small circle of armed gunmen that greeted him on the other side didn’t help any.

“Not one step,” Rodney ground out, holding up his hand when the men would have moved forward to surround him. “Not until you can prove to me that Colonel Sheppard is alive.”

Grim faced, the armed men exchanged a look with each other, before betraying the man in charge by all looking to him for direction. Their leader spoke into a hand held radio, a bulky contraption that belonged in a museum. “Dr. McKay is asking to speak to the prisoner.” He listened, nodded, and walked forward, holding out the radio.

“Dr. McKay?” the voice on the other end asked. “Here is Colonel Sheppard.”

John?” Anxiety made Rodney’s voice sharp. “You okay?”

“Sure,” John drawled, in the manner that hid a whole host of possible injuries while still conveying that John could probably make a run for it if the opportunity presented itself. “I thought I told you to stay home, McKay.”

“You know how it is,” Rodney said mildly, proud of the fact there was no tremor in his voice. “I had some last minute shopping to do.”

John laughed. Oddly, he sounded genuinely amused. “Funny you should mention that. Well, you’re here now. Do what these nice people ask, and I’m sure everything will be okay, Rodney.”

Rodney would have said something else, but his negotiator took the radio away and cut the signal. “As you can see, Colonel Sheppard is alive and well at this time. Whether he remains that way depends on you.”

Rodney gave the man his best glare. “Very well, lead the way.”

The sun broke through the clouds as he spoke. One of the armed guards gasped and looked up beyond Rodney’s head. He turned to see an intense rainbow shimmering behind the Gate—one of the better ones he’d seen in a long time. As he stared, he could make out the subtler sheen of a second rainbow as well. He wished he had a camera, and then kicked himself a moment later for being so easily distracted.

The guards muttered and shifted uneasily, but before Rodney could say anything, the sun went behind the clouds again.

“Come with us,” the leader of the group said, waving Rodney in the direction of the town with the barrel of his gun.

As he’d expected, Rodney found himself deep in the bowels of a power station, attempting to restore function to a grid so old, and with so many patches, that it was a wonder the whole thing hadn’t collapsed long ago. What was not expected was the team of workers ready to take his orders. Whatever the reason, these people were serious about getting the grid up and running. Rodney was grateful that no one questioned his orders. They seemed almost deferential, and with Katie’s words about kindness in his mind, and his awareness that his plan hinged on his being cooperative, Rodney made an effort to be polite. Maybe it would bring John home safe for Christmas. That was the only kind of order and balance he cared about right now.

The process was a lengthy one, however, and it took Rodney a while to figure out the convoluted wiring. It was already late in day when they started, and there was an uneasy urgency in the atmosphere as they worked. Rodney got the impression this action of holding John hostage in exchange for Rodney’s expertise was a hasty improvisation when the grid unexpectedly went out. Why couldn’t they have just asked for help? The question annoyed and bothered him.

Rodney became engrossed in solving the puzzle. Testing relays and reconfiguring antique wiring took time, especially when Rodney came upon an entire section so dangerously mis-wired that he had to stop everything until he could by-pass it and correct the errors. When the guards began to put pressure on him to work faster, he drafted them into helping with the extensive repairs. He refrained masterfully from looking at his watch. He didn’t want to raise any suspicions, but for pity’s sake, what was taking Ronon and the others so long? He was beginning to fear that his plan hadn’t worked and Lorne hadn’t been able to bring a team through the Gate.

No one would come outright and say why it was so important to get one elderly generator back online. When Rodney suggested taking a break for some food, his assistants had looked nervously at each other.

“You will not rest until the work is done,” said the guard who’d given Rodney the radio earlier in the day.

“I’m tired and I skipped lunch,” Rodney said irritably. “I get hypoglycemic—I can’t think straight with low blood sugar.”

His guard looked unimpressed, but he motioned to one of the small children hanging around to come to him. He spoke quietly in her ear. She scampered off with alacrity, only to return about twenty minutes later with a covered basket. She walked up to Rodney tentatively, and proffered it.

The odor of warm, yeasty bread assailed his nostrils when he flipped back the cloth cover. Inside, he found half a dozen fresh baked rolls stuffed with thick slices of some sort of tender meat. As he bit into one, it occurred to him that whatever animal provided such succulent meat should probably be added to John’s Atlantis Wish List. Rodney unobtrusively slipped a meat roll into one of his pockets. John might well need some food right away once they got him back.

Always provided they did get him back.

“Thank you.” Rodney said to the little girl, who reminded him of a grubbier, less well-fed version of Madison.

“You’re welcome,” she said, with a sort of half-curtsey. “You are going to fix the lights before night falls, yes?”

“I’m doing my best,” Rodney said, trying not to let the irritation show. “What happens at nightfall?”

“The monsters come at night. Mostly.” Her voice was small and soft, and she didn’t meet his eye. Instead, she dug the square toe of her handmade shoe into the dirt. Rodney had a weird creepy sense of déjà vu as he thought of Newt in the Aliens movies. “They don’t like the lights.”

Whatever she was referring to, Rodney didn’t intend for him and John to be on the planet at nightfall.

It was starting to get dark, however, before he got the grid back up. _Where the fuck was his back up?_ A subdued but heartfelt cheering from his assistants brought the remaining armed guard in once more. Rodney was on his hands and knees, putting the finishing touches on his repairs to the main circuits in the control console, when the guard came up to check his progress.

The guard’s relief that the grid was working was briefly apparent before he scowled again. “Right. You got the power grid up. Now we need you to reconfigure the auxiliary power so that it will serve as a back up, should the grid go down again. You don’t need help for that.” He raised his voice so that the workers could hear him. “The rest of you, go home. Prepare for the night.”

They didn’t need a second invitation. The workers dispersed with an alacrity that Rodney found alarming.

“Get to work on the auxiliary power modifications.” The guard seemed unimpressed by the miraculous work that Rodney had already achieved that afternoon.

Rodney squinted at the guard from his position underneath the console. “You don’t want to do that. Your DHD is tied into your auxiliary power. If we do what you suggest, no one will be able to leave this planet—at least, not by the Gate.”

“You will do what I say.” The gunman waved his weapon threateningly in Rodney’s face. “If you do not, the Colonel will suffer—more than he already has, that is.”

He smiled in a nasty, suggestive kind of way. Rodney realized that he was holding a Glock 19—John’s gun. Since his arrival on this godforsaken ball of mud, Rodney had been working his damnedest to get this stupid, antiquated power grid functional again. He’d gone out of his way to be polite to his captors, and here this jerk comes in and threatens him with John’s gun. A gun he probably had to hurt John in order to take it away from him.

Rodney looked down at the wrench in his hand.

_Screw it. No more Mr. Nice Guy._

Something inside of him broke, releasing a hot flow of lava-like anger. He struck out with the wrench, making bone-crushing contact with the gunman’s shinbone. The guard cried out, and brought his gun hand around to bear on Rodney.

Rodney swiped at it with the wrench, knocking the gun out of the man’s grasp. It landed on the floor with a clatter. The guard yelped, and folded over, cradling his hand as he cursed.

_Keep striking until he is incapacitated_. Rodney took John’s lesson to heart, using his feet to wipe the guard’s legs out from under him. When he went down, Rodney had to resist the temptation to beat him into a bloody pulp with the wrench. Instead, as the guard lay groaning on the floor, Rodney casually picked up the gun.

Checking the safety, Rodney stuck the gun in the waistband of his pants. “Here,” he said to the downed guard, as he reached for his toolkit. “Let me introduce you to the wonders of duct tape.”

****

“Rodney?” John sounded incredulous, which was a little disconcerting. Rodney could orchestrate a rescue when needed, thank you very much.

“You were expecting Bob Hope?”

John smiled his real smile, the one that made him look like a total goof.

Rodney didn’t really mind John’s doubt, however. He was just glad to see John alive and in one piece, relatively speaking. John had a nice bruise developing around one eye, and a cut on his cheekbone, but that was par for the course for one of these little jaunts.

Rodney noted with interest that John’s captors had foolishly tied John’s hands in front of him. As soon as John realized Rodney was alone, he rotated his wrists in a little twisting motion, and his bonds loosened and fell away. There was a cautiousness about his movement as he leaned forward to untie his feet, however, that raised a red flag for Rodney.

Alarm bells went off loudly in his head when John stood slowly, and seemed to be protecting his belly with one hand.

“You’re hurt,” Rodney said, his voice flat with sick despair.

“Nah, I’m fine, just a little stiff, that’s all.”

“You’re lying.” Rodney marched over to him and threw his jacket open, reaching in with his hands to feel John’s abdomen. “You’re hurt; I can tell by the way you’re standing—like you’re trying to keep your guts in place with your hands. What is this, the third penetrating belly wound that you’ve had? So help me god, John, if they’ve hurt you—”

He broke off abruptly as he encountered something soft and warm underneath John’s shirt that squirmed on contact. He pulled up John’s shirttail out of his pants. A small animal rolled out with a weak protest. John grabbed at it as the same time that Rodney did, but Rodney ended up catching it reflexively.

“So much for your Christmas surprise.” John said, in a voice of mixed amusement and exasperation.

Rodney held the small animal up in front of him. It was brown with black stripes. It had white mittens and a bib that ran up its chest and out over its muzzle, as though it had dipped its nose in a bowl of milk. Its belly was pale cream in color with faint spots. Small, triangular shaped ears had little tufts of white hair sticking out of them. It wriggled in Rodney’s grasp and mewed.

“It’s a kitten,” Rodney said in awe.

“Looks like it to me,” John said with a hint of reserve. “At least, the Pegasus equivalent of one, at any rate. It was stuck in the wall here.” He pointed at the wood and plaster affair that framed the hut in which Rodney had found him. There was a piece of wall missing, and Rodney could see a thin shaft in which a curious kitten might have fallen. The edges of the hole looked fresh, and Rodney could see where John had enlarged it so he could reach the kitten.

“He was starving, so I gave him some of my power bar.” John looked pleased with himself.

“You got me a kitten,” Rodney said blankly.

“Well, yeah. I mean, it’s sort of last minute and everything, but…” he trailed off. “Don’t you like it?”

“You fucking _idiot_.” Rodney blazed. He tucked the kitten inside his fleece shirt, making sure it wouldn’t fall out as he zipped his coat up. Inside his clothing, the kitten began crawl about, crying pathetically. “Let me guess, you were protecting the kitten, so you couldn’t defend yourself very well.” He took the gun out of his waistband and handed it back to John. “I’ll protect the kitten,” he snapped. “You protect me. It works better that way.”

“Are you mad at me?” John was irritably confused. He took the weapon, checked the clip, and holstered it. “If you don’t want the kitten, fine, just say so.”

“I want the kitten,” Rodney ground out with an effort, shifting as the kitten moved around in his shirt. He winced as it dug in with tiny talons into his tender flesh. The mewling was getting demanding. It was fully awake now and obviously hungry again. The yowling was reaching a piercing level. “It’s the best gift ever. Really. But as much as I like the kitten, I like _you_ more. I would appreciate it if you would take better care of yourself from now on.”

He glared fiercely at John, even as he remembered the roll with meat on it in his pocket. He fished a piece of meat out and tore it into tiny pieces, pushing them one at a time down the collar of his fleece shirt. The kitten scrabbled up his chest to reach the food, making little growling sounds as it chewed. Rodney hoped it wouldn’t choke as it wolfed down the pieces of meat.

John gave him the most ridiculous grin ever.

Rodney knew they were still in the middle of an escape, but he didn’t care.

He’d been waiting five years to kiss John. Five years of pretending that he kissing wasn’t what they did—that he and John didn’t have that kind of relationship. Five years of wondering why every relationship that he attempted failed, all the while not realizing he was already _in_ one. Five years of over-compensating denial, of seeking out women who would support his public image, and wondering why everything with them was awkward and uncomfortable.

Rodney took John by the sides of his jacket and pulled him close, conscious that he shouldn’t squish the kitten. Their noses bumped. John stood stiff and awkward as Rodney brushed John’s lips with his own. Careful, at first, not sure of his reception. When John didn’t pull back, Rodney grew bold, letting John feel the full measure of his hunger, of desire realized, and what he was offering here. Rodney let his smile curve his lips as he kissed. _Bet he didn’t see this one coming._

John made a sort of whimpering noise and took Rodney by either side of his face, pulling him in for a bruising, breath-taking, cock-stirring kiss. Unexpectedly soft lips met Rodney’s with a sharp intake of breath. Rodney opened his mouth willingly; content to be there to accept John now that he’d arrived on the same page. John drank him in, mouth and lips meshing as though born of long habit and not meeting for the first time. He finished his passionate onslaught with small, almost gentle touches of his lips. He rested his forehead against Rodney’s, still holding on to the back of Rodney’s head.

John released Rodney and took a step back.

“Right,” Rodney said. He cleared his throat and tried to look business like, but failed utterly under the charm of John’s only-for-you smile. “So, um, what’s the plan? I sort of had a plan, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“I don’t know, seems like a pretty good plan so far.” John’s voice was full of innuendo, which made Rodney want to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Seriously, what next?”

“Now we find the villagers, fix their shit, and go home.”

Rodney gaped for only a second before accepting the plan with a sigh. Of _course_ , that’s what they’d do.

****

“Huh,” Ronon said, on meeting them as they entered the main square in the town. “Look who started the rescue without us.”

“You certainly were taking your own goddamned time!” Rodney snapped. “Where the hell were you guys?”

“We had to lull them into relaxing their guard,” Lorne explained, sounding tired. “If we’d come through right away, they would have been suspicious. We had to wait until they were bored with waiting for a trap.”

“As it was, your plan worked very well, Rodney.” Teyla had that serenely smug expression on her face that she got whenever she’d thoroughly kicked someone’s ass. She also looked disconcertingly pregnant. She caught Rodney staring at her abdomen and she smiled as she patted her belly. “A little padding was most effective. A story of travelers in distress, a pregnant woman about to deliver… few people would deny access to their village under those circumstances.”

“Few people would expect a woman doubled over in labor to suddenly start fighting with the heart of a _ganth-bear_.” Kanaan’s contribution to the conversation was unexpected, but it was obvious he was proud of Teyla.

“Once we took out the guards at the Gate,” Teyla said, smiling at Kanaan and giving his hand a squeeze, “Lorne’s team came through and we were able to take control of the village. We were just on our way to find you, when you found us instead.” The look she gave Rodney was full of approval, which somehow meant more to him than any scientific achievement award he could have ever received. Even a Nobel.

“Aw, gee.” John’s drawl caught everyone’s attention. Though everyone turned to look at him, it was to Rodney that he spoke. “Our kids have all grown up.”

Rodney grinned with the rest of them.

****

“I believe Dr. Cox is trying to catch your attention, Rodney.”

Rodney looked up sharply at Teyla’s words and saw that Dr. Cox was indeed signaling at him. When she saw that she had his attention, she began to weave her way through the crowed mess hall to their table.

It was officially Christmas Day, and he was having breakfast with his Team. The general atmosphere was one of excitement and goodwill. As a special treat, the kitchen staff had prepared Belgian waffles. Rodney drizzled syrup on his waffle and cut off a piece with the edge of his fork. They were best hot, and he wasn’t going to let Dr. Cox keep him from eating his breakfast while it was fresh off the griddle.

The last few days had been hectic. Jennifer, predictably, had instituted a quarantine on the kitten. Rodney went to see him every day. The kitten was afraid of nothing; Rodney was constantly fishing him out of drawers and from underneath cabinets, wiping dust and cobwebs out of his whiskers as he did so. After each meal, which the kitten inhaled until his belly was round like a drum, he would totter on unsteady feet over to where Rodney sat on the floor. There he would climb up Rodney’s fleece shirt until he could nose under Rodney’s chin, purring loudly the whole time. He had white toes and soft black pads. He was perfect.

The vet pronounced him healthy by the parameters of Earth cats, and dewormed him. She gave Rodney something for fleas to put on him in a few weeks, and told him they would start the kitten’s vaccine series then. She suspected he was only six weeks old, but at his current rate of growth he might get larger than the average cat.

Rodney named him Alexander the Great.

John had teased him about that. “Asking for trouble, I say.”

Teyla had asked for an explanation, and Rodney had told her about the young Macedonian king who had conquered the world and why it amused him to name the cat after him.

Over the last few days, he’d gone back to Thod and made good on his promise to repair their power systems. Ronon and John had gone to the heart of the problem and rooted out the ‘monsters’ in their nest—turns out there was a band of Michael’s creatures living in a cave in the woods. The dangerous, yet important task of eliminating the creatures had left John and Ronon feeling very pleased with themselves. Rodney realized he was just going to have to deal with John’s need to combine adrenaline with his daily routine.

The Thodians had been greatly appreciative of the efforts from the Team from Atlantis, and had promised to make up for their aggressive behavior by providing the city with a portion of the next harvest. It turned out that The Ribbon of Light, which is what they called rainbows, was considered an omen of great importance—and a double one even more so. The Team was practically revered. It amused Rodney that the guard that he’d subdued had still borne traces of duct tape on his face when Rodney had returned.

John’s present had not turned up on the last shipment of things from the _Daedalus_. Rodney had no regrets, however, as he watched the ship leave for the return run back to Earth, taking Katie Brown with it. He still didn’t have a present for John, but he was working on it. The day wasn’t over yet.

The last thing he wanted was to have his holiday breakfast interrupted by some work related thing. He was scowling by the time Dr. Cox reached the table.

She seemed not to notice. “Good morning! Happy Holidays, everyone! Colonel, Ronon.” She nodded to the two men sitting on the opposite side of the table from Rodney and Teyla. “Where’s Torren this morning?”

Teyla smiled at the mention of her son. “He is with Kanaan. They are planning something for me, and I cannot be a part of it, or so Kanaan tells me.” Her smile was easy and relaxed, the smile of a woman who knows she is loved and knows whatever Kannan has planned, she will enjoy it.

Rodney envied her that.

“I just had to come over and tell you.” Dr. Cox turned the full force of her smile on Rodney. “Thank you, thank you so much!” She leaned down and gave Rodney a quick kiss on the cheek.

Rodney’s face felt like it was on fire. He glanced at John, whose face shuttered and closed instantly.

“What did McKay do?” Damn, Ronon. He was enjoying this.

“My dog was missing. Dr. McKay pulled strings and got a message through to the _Apollo_. Armed with the frequency of my dog’s microchip, and the DNA fingerprint that he created, the _Apollo_ was able to reconfigure their scanners to search for her.” Dr. Cox turned to speak to Rodney directly. “She’d been injured and she couldn’t get home. Thanks to you, they found her and were able to get her to the vet in time. I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure she’d be okay, but I got the news in this morning’s datastream. I can never thank you enough.”

“Ah, well, don’t mention it. Glad to be of help.” Rodney was glad the dog was okay, but he really wished that Dr. Cox could have settled for a thank you card. Or chocolate. Chocolate would have been nice.

“This is the best Christmas present ever!” She bent down and kissed him again, throwing her arms around his shoulders for a hug.

“Um, right. Well, yes.” Rodney was flustered and didn’t know what to say.

Dr. Cox left them, tossing one more brilliant smile over her shoulder as she did so.

When Rodney looked at John, he was leaning back in his chair with one arm over the seatback, staring out of the balcony doors. The weather front that had threatened the other day had slowly moved in, and they’d woken this morning to a driving sleet spattering against the windows. Rodney scrubbed at his cheek where Dr. Cox had kissed him without thinking.

“Dr. Cox seemed very appreciative of your gesture, Rodney.” Teyla spread some jam on a piece of toast, not looking up as she did so.

“She was upset about the dog. She mentioned it in the lab and I thought I would see what I could do.”

No one said anything.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” Rodney demanded.

“You called in the _Apollo_. To search for a dog.” Ronon raised an eyebrow at him. His glance flicked briefly in John’s direction before settling back on Rodney’s face again.

“I happen to know that Ellis is a dog person. Besides, he owed me for being such a jerk the last time he was here. I told him when I headed the repair teams on his ship that he was going to owe me big time.”

Silence fell again. “It’s _Christmas_ ,” Rodney said.

John stood up abruptly, pushing back his chair. “Catch you guys later. I have something I have to do.”

He walked off without looking back.

“What’s eating him?” Rodney frowned, taking a bite of his waffle and noting not only was it cold, but it was soggy too.

“You must care about Dr. Cox very much to intervene on her behalf like that.” Teyla spoke in her very neutral tone, the one she’d used when Jennifer first joined the group for meals.

“What? No.” Rodney was aghast. “You think I have a thing for Dr. Cox? That this is why I helped her find her dog? Come on, I can’t be a nice guy?”

“She _is_ your type.” Teyla shrugged.

“And you’ve been known to bounce from one love of your life to another,” Ronon added.

Rodney slapped his fork down beside his plate. “Well, you’re both wrong. I was just trying to do the right thing because someone in my lab was upset over a lost pet. I can tell you what it’s like to have a pet go missing and never know what happened to it. And furthermore, pretty blondes are no longer my type!”

Teyla shared a glance with Ronon, a slow smile developing on her face. “Rodney, am I to understand that your type has changed?”

Rodney blinked. He thought of John as he’d seen him just that morning, getting dressed in the grey half-light of dawn. He’d been trying to leave without waking Rodney, but Rodney had lain in bed and enjoyed the show. A naked John Sheppard was a thing of beauty, and Rodney didn’t think he’d ever get tired of looking at him.

“Yes. My type has changed. Either of you have a problem with that?” He was prepared to fight them both on this, physically, if need be. His fists clenched at his sides.

To his surprise. Teyla grinned widely and held her hand out to Ronon, who made a face but pulled out one of his knives—the one with the hand carved handle—and placed it in her palm. “Thank you, Ronon. This will make a very nice Christmas gift for Kanaan.”

“Wait a minute.” Rodney glanced back and forth from Ronon to Teyla. “You guys had a running bet? On whether me and…” he trailed off, unable to say it out loud. Just because DADT had been repealed, didn’t mean that John was willing to be open about his relationship with Rodney. Now that they actually had one.

“Yes, we had a bet,” Teyla said calmly. “And Ronon lost. He said it would never happen because you would not see what was right before you all the time. He should know better than to bet against me.” She looked smug. “I am starting to have a very fine knife collection.”

Ronon stuck his tongue out at her, which made her giggle.

“So, if you guys thought I was sucking up to Cox in order to closer to her, than John must have—Oh!” It took a moment for the realization to catch up to his thought processes, but it suddenly dawned on him. John was _jealous_. And if John was jealous, then that meant his was serious about Rodney. That the relationship wasn’t one-sided. That Rodey wasn’t in it alone.

He stood up so abruptly that his chair fell over backward. Without stopping to pick it up or take his tray back to the counter, Rodney ran from the table.

****

Rodney found John holed up in his room. He was lying on his bed under the Johnny Cash poster. Just lying there. Not reading. Not listening to music. Just there.

Rodney supposed he should have been glad that John had let him in, though he bet that if he’d asked, the city would have overridden John just this once.

“Hey.” Rodney stood awkwardly in the middle of John’s room. He wasn’t sure what to say. If he started in with, “I thought you said you had something to do?” that would put John on the defensive, and he didn’t want that. He decided to cut to the chase. “I’m not trying to get close to Dr. Cox, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who said I was worried?” John laced his fingers over his abdomen and crossed his booted feet at the ankles. Only the slight tapping of his thumbs betrayed him.

“Oh,” Rodney said casually. “My mistake. I thought maybe that’s why you left the table this morning.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve suddenly sprung a new love interest on us.” John stopped tapping his thumbs and stared up at the ceiling now.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Rodney said hotly, “but I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to have any outside interests.”

John placed his hands behind his head. “No one’s stopping you. If you want to date Dr. Cox, be my guest.”

Rodney made a noise of infinite frustration and pulled at the hair on his temples until it stood out in demented tufts. “I can’t believe you’re such a drama queen! I don’t want to date Rebecca Cox!”

John swung his feet off the bed and sat up, glowering at Rodney from underneath bangs overdue for a trim. “Did you just call me a drama queen?” His voice was silky and threatening.

“Yes, yes I did!” Rodney snapped. “For god’s sake, I finally figured out it’s you I want. Can you please not assume I’m going to dump you for the next blonde with a nice rack that comes along?”

John opened and closed his mouth several times before blowing air through his lips. “You want me?” The slight uncertainty in his voice defeated Rodney’s anger.

“Yes, you doofus.” He came over to the bed, sitting down bedside John. “I know I was blind to it for a ridiculously long time, but that’s because I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it most of the time. You could have your pick of pretty much anyone you wanted. I don’t get why you would want to be with me.”

“And you call yourself a genius,” John drawled.

“I know this much—I have pretty much everything I’ve ever wanted right here in Atlantis. Right now.” _With you_.

He didn’t say the words, but he suspected John heard them anyway. John visibly relaxed, and Rodney relaxed as well, releasing tension that he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“You have to admit,” John said, leaning into Rodney so that their shoulders bumped. “I had grounds for concern.”

“Oh please,” Rodney said. “Since when has John Sheppard not gotten everything he ever wanted when it came to relationships and sex?”

“Since he came to Atlantis.” John spoke quietly. No drawl, no lazy charm. “Since he came to the one place that has ever felt like home, and met the one person who he couldn’t have. Five years, Rodney.”

“Huh,” Rodney said. “Sounds like grounds for lots of make up sex to me.”

“See?” John chuckled. “You’re a genius after all.”

Later, when Rodney was struggling against the lassitude that demanded that he sleep and the desire to stay awake so he could enjoy his time lying next to John, he remembered about the Christmas gift.

“Hey.” He nudged John, poking at him until he opened one hazel eye. John yawned and stretched closer toward Rodney. He turned so that he could lay one thigh across Rodney’s pelvis, his leg a warm heavy weight. In this position, Rodney could feel the slight stirring of John’s cock against his skin, and he wondered what he would learn next about the pleasures of gay sex at John’s hands.

He hoped he had a lifetime to find out.

He remembered why he’d started poking John, and he poked again.

John trapped Rodney’s hand in his own and pressed both of their hands to Rodney’s abdomen. “What?” John yawned again, triggering the same in Rodney.

“I don’t have a present for you. You know, with today being Christmas and all. Well, Christmas because we’re calling it Christmas, but it’s the principle of the thing. You got me Alexander The Great. I ordered a present for you but it didn’t come in time. So I have the best gift ever, and I have nothing to give you in return.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” John waggled his eyebrows, keeping the moment from being too sappy, but Rodney grinned just the same.

When they kissed, Rodney was reminded of that line in _The Princess Bride_ about how since the beginning of recorded time, there were only five kisses that ranked as the most passionate, the most pure.

This one blew all the others away.

~fin


End file.
